Beautiful One (20 page)

Mason nudged me. “Liz, are you going to school?” My eyes didn't want to open. I tried and was able to squint up at him. His face showed concern. “What happened last night? Are you okay?” My bed dipped down with the weight of Mason next to me. I wasn't ready to talk to him about what had happened. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and blinked up at him.

“I'm alright.”
A lie.
“I'll tell you everything later. Will you tell Mom I'm sick?” The palms of my hands continued to rub my eyes. My bed shifted again when Mason got up.

“Yeah, I'll tell her. Maggie wants in. Do you want her?”

I glanced toward the door.

“Sure. C'mon girl.” Maggie jumped up on the bed.

My door closed just as the tears began to fall. I wiped them away, knowing my mom would be in my room any minute. While petting Maggie, my hand skimmed across the area where she had been attacked. I sat up and inspected the scar.

My mom peeked in my room as I was kissing Maggie's snout.

“What's wrong, sweetie?”

“I'm just not feeling well.” I didn't make eye contact. One look at me and my mom would know I had been crying. I curled my body around Maggie.

“Stomach? Head? What?” Mom asked from the doorway.

“Cramps.”

“Oh, alright. I'll get the heating pad.”

“No, Mom, if I need it, I'll get it. I just want to go back to sleep.”

“Alright, Liz. I'll see you when I get home from work.”

“Bye, Mom.” I pushed Maggie off the bed.

“Bye, sweetie.” Maggie followed my mom and she closed my door.

When I knew the house was empty, I finally got up. My pounding head was in desperate need of some aspirin. I padded down the hallway to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Slurping the water from the faucet, I downed two tablets. My puffy eyes and splotchy red face assured me I'd made the right decision to skip school today. I turned on the shower and stepped inside. The hot water washed away my tears while I sobbed.

What will I to say to everyone? That they were right? That Aidan is a cheater? Am I any better? I hadn't acted on my feelings, but I still felt them. No — I refuse to believe that. I didn't cheat, he did!
Images of Nina wrapped in Aidan's arms made me sick.
I hate him for betraying me. I hate that I trusted him, and I hate that I cared.

The sudden rush of icy water chilled my anger. I wrapped myself in my purple bathrobe and climbed back in my bed. Scrolling through my cell, there were several texts from Melissa and two from Mason. Aidan had texted me six times. His all said the same thing.

Please forgive me.

****

“Liz, what are you doing?” my mom asked. I didn't even hear her open the front door. I glanced down at the open carton of chocolate ice cream and dropped the spoon.

“I… guess I was hungry.” I glanced down at the open carton and wondered how much ice cream I had consumed.

“I came home for lunch and wanted to check on you. At least get a bowl.” Mom opened the cupboard.

“No, no, Mom. I'm good. I'm done.” I got up from the table, put the lid back on the ice cream, and shoved it back in the freezer.

“Are you feeling any better?” Mom grabbed a piece of cold chicken from the fridge and began constructing a sandwich.

“Yeah, but I think I'll go lie back down.”

“Okay, honey.”

The second I climbed back into my bed, I burst into tears. Not again. Not because of what happened with Aidan. I wasn't going to let myself go down that road like before. No matter how I felt, I wasn't going to eat my feelings. I was going to feel them. I allowed myself to cry until I heard my mom yell from the stairs below she was leaving. I yelled back. “Bye, Mom.” I wiped my tears away and got out of bed.

The wilted rose on my desk looked as sad as I felt. I decided to put it out of its misery and throw it away. With the rose in hand, I went downstairs and out the back door. Before I tossed it to its death, I gave it one last sniff and watched it fall atop grass clippings in the green-waste trashcan.

It was a warm day, so I decided to get out of the house. Back upstairs, I went to my room and put on a white sundress. I thought it might make me feel better if I at least dressed cute. My flip-flops looked comfortable, so I slipped them on and headed out the door toward my car. I threw my purse in the passenger seat and started up my car. It didn't matter where I was going. I just wanted to go.

Mindlessly, I drove past the park, the harbor, and then down the coast. I ended up at Hole in the Fence Beach. Since I had no idea where I was headed, I didn't have a towel. I took off my flip-flops and let my toes sink into the sand. My eyes caught the attention of a couple walking hand-in-hand up the beach. Before I realized it, tears were threatening to fall.

A text from Melissa pulled me from my grief. She told me she would be stopping by after school.

What am I going to tell her?

What am I going to tell Mason?

I didn't want to tell them about Nina. Mason would kill Aidan. I decided I would just say I couldn't handle how jealous he was. That was believable. Because it was true.

Reluctantly, I texted Aidan. I didn't want him spilling the beans to Mason in an attempt to clear his conscience.

Me:
telling Mason and Melissa we broke up because of your jealousy. I'm leaving your whore of a girlfriend out of it.

I knew he'd get mad when he read it, but I didn't care. A text from Aidan came through seconds later.

Aidan:
Can I see you? Please?

I never answered him.

****

When I walked in the house, Mason and Melissa were sitting on the couch waiting for me. I hated I couldn't tell them the truth, but I knew my brother. He had let it slide when Aidan had confessed about trying to kiss Melissa. I knew it was because we were together then. Now Aidan wouldn't be so lucky.

Melissa got up from the couch and hugged me. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

I shook my head, yes, even though it wasn't true.

“What happened last night?”

I sat down and leaned my head back against the couch.

“I found him at his house. We argued, and I told him I couldn't handle how jealous he was. I had given him enough chances, and I was sick of it.”

I glanced at Melissa and Mason, hoping they would take what I'd said and not question me too much. It seemed to work. They both began talking over each other about the incident in the bar and how Aidan was always possessively watching me.

Melissa ended the Aidan-bashing with her last statement. “That's just not healthy.”

I looked at Mason and asked, “Did you see him today?”

Mason shook his head no.

Mason glanced at Melissa and asked, “How about you?”

“I saw him from a distance. He was walking toward the parking lot. I think he left after second period.” Melissa shifted toward me. “Have you heard from him?”

“He texted me. He wants me to forgive him.” I shrugged.

Maggie came over and laid her face on my lap. I rubbed the top of her head. Mason sat up and took a deep breath.

“I hate to bring this up, but I need to talk to Aidan. I know he said he was out of the band, but I still want him in. Are you okay with that? Or should we find someone else? It's your call, Liz.”

I looked at Mason for a few minutes before I answered. “It's fine. It'll be hard… but, it's fine.” I turned my gaze to Maggie as she went and curled up on her bed in the corner.

“Alright,” Mason answered.

Maggie popped her head up seconds before the doorbell rang. Mason and Melissa both stared at me. Mason got up.

“I'll get it.”

I didn't have to open the door to know Aidan was the one behind it.

Melissa was wide-eyed, and I nervously chewed my bottom lip. We could hear soft murmuring coming from the front room. Melissa was the first to get up and hurry toward the door. I followed.

“She doesn't want to see you.”

Melissa stood next to my brother, blocking my view.

“Five minutes, that's all I want.” Aidan sounded desperate.

I maneuvered myself in front of Melissa and reached for Mason's arm. His solid muscles were tense.

“I'll talk to him,” I whispered.

Mason let out a breath and backed away. Melissa glanced at me before she slipped her arm around Mason's waist and walked back into the family room.

I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. Other than Aidan's bloodshot eyes, he looked perfect. He was wearing the blue, button-down shirt I'd bought him for Christmas.
My favorite.
I stared into his red-rimmed eyes and found his expression so pained it was hard to look at him.

“You asked for five minutes,” I said icily.

Aidan took a few steps away from the door and motioned to the driveway.

“Can we go for a walk?”

I wrapped my arms around myself and didn't move from the front door.

“Please,” he begged.

The look on his face was pleading. I took a step forward, and Aidan sighed in relief. When we exited the driveway, I made sure to walk in the opposite direction of Spencer's house. I knew running into him wouldn't be good.

Aidan tried to hold my hand. I jerked my head to look at him. His eyes softened as he whispered, “Habit.”

The silence between us became more uncomfortable with each step. Five minutes was up ten minutes ago. We were nearing a small park in the neighborhood. It was empty.

Aidan glanced at me. “How about if we sit over there?”

He motioned to a slatted-wood bench. We walked over, and I sat down close to the end. Aidan sat. He had more room on his side than I did. He bent forward, head down, elbows on his knees. After several minutes he spoke.

“Why can't you forgive me?”

His good looks and tormented expression were beginning to cloud my judgment. The unwanted pull of compassion was softening my heart.

“Aidan, you cheated on me. I can't trust you anymore.”

Aidan tried to interrupt me, but I just continued. “I can't trust you.”

Again, he tried to say something. My tone became more amplified as I slowly spoke. “I. Can't. Trust. You.”

“You're my best friend. You're everything to me.”

Even though I was angry his words were killing me. Before I could think straight, he reached out and hugged me. I felt his body go limp while he sobbed in my arms.

“What do I do, Liz? I love you… I love you.” He whimpered.

My shoulder was wet with his tears. He was so broken I felt myself weakening. To protect myself, I allowed the walls to go up, which was easy to do with the images of Nina seared in my brain. My body stiffened as I pushed myself away from him.

“You should have thought of that before you had sex with Nina in her car.”

He reached for me and tried to hold me again. I moved from his grasp and stood up.

“I've gotta go. Your five minutes are up.” I walked away just before the tears started to fall.

School was the most difficult for me. Melissa and Mason tried to make it better. They made sure one of them was always with me: when I walked to class, walked to the parking lot, walked to brunch. Like I couldn't function without them. Near the end of day two of their constant shadowing, I couldn't take it anymore. I took the opportunity to confront them when they were both escorting me to my economics class.

“Look, you guys, I know you're trying to be nice, but your constant hovering is starting to get to me.”

They both appeared wounded with my honesty. It almost made me laugh. Almost.

“It is?” Melissa asked.

“Ya, kinda.” I smiled. “I'm doing okay. It's hard, but I'm not falling apart, so please, ease up.” I glanced at Mason and hesitated before I asked, “Do you know how Aidan's doing?”

“I've been checking on him. I just didn't want to tell you about it. It felt… I don't know… disloyal.” I reached out and rubbed his arm.

“No, Mason, I would never think that.”

“Are you sure you want to hear this?”

I wasn't sure, but I shook my head yes anyway.

“Not good.” The bell rang for class. “He's a mess. I didn't realize how much he loved you.”

“Mason, stop. I can't hear any more.” Compassion started to overwhelm me as I backed away from them both. “We should get to class. I'll see you guys later.”

****

The last few days had been heart-wrenching. I was thankful it was practice night. I was looking forward to getting my mind off Aidan. When I approached Spencer's house, there was an unfamiliar car in the driveway. My curiosity was soon put to rest when the blond beauty, Kara, opened the door.

“Hi, Elizabeth, it's nice to see you again. You and Spencer were fantastic the other night.” Kara smiled a perfect smile and invited me in. So graceful and poised. I felt gawky in her presence.

“Thank you.” I glanced around, looking for Spencer, but I didn't see him.

“Why don't you have a seat?” Kara motioned to the couch. “Spencer will be right out. Can I get you something to drink?”

I watched her, so at ease and comfortable in Spencer's home, but I was still confused.

W
ho is she to him
?

“No, thank you, I'm fine.” With as much grace as I could muster, I walked to the couch, but since my eyes were still focused on Kara, I stumbled and slammed my knee into the coffee table.
Klutz.

“Are you alright?” Kara came to my side and put her hand on my shoulder.

“I'm just clumsy.” I tried to laugh it off while I rubbed my jean-covered leg. The coffee table was pushed over a bit, so I moved it back to its previous position and sat down on the couch.

Kara was prattling on, filling the void of Spencer's absence. I nodded, smiled, and rubbed my knee as she continued to gush about mine and Spencer's duet at the club. When she spoke about our performance, I had to shake off my thoughts of Aidan. It pained me to think of him.

I was thankful when Spencer emerged from the back room. His hair was damp, he was wearing faded ripped jeans and a tight green t-shirt. His colorful tatted arms were fully exposed.

“Sorry about the wait, Elizabeth. We'll start in a minute.” Spencer's gaze met mine and then focused back on Kara. “I'll walk you out, Kara.”

Kara turned, smiled, and told me goodbye before Spencer closed the door behind them
and
walked her out the door.

Still stumped and curious, I was up from the couch and at the front door in seconds. One eye peered through the peephole. My eye focused through the small opening, and my heart sank, my question answered.

A few feet from the front door Spencer was locked in an embrace with Kara. I stepped back quickly, ran back to the couch, and tried to calm myself down before he returned. My heart was beating out of control, and my stomach was in knots. Feeling panicked, I got up and escaped to the bathroom. I had to get out of his living room before I lost it. I closed the toilet seat lid, sat down, and put my head between my legs in an attempt to calm myself down.

Maybe I should tell Spencer to forget it and get out of here
.

“Elizabeth?” Spencer called my name, but, still feeling out of sorts, I didn't answer. “Elizabeth?” he called again.

I heard his footsteps approach the bathroom door but, thankfully, he walked away. I gave myself another minute before I opened the door and headed down the hallway. Spencer was strumming his guitar.

“Sorry, I had to use the bathroom,” I quietly murmured.

“No problem.” He stopped playing and put his guitar down. “Elizabeth?” Spencer got up and stood in front of me. He placed both hands on my shoulders and stared deep into my eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” I stepped back, but he closed the distance between us.

“For making you sing the other night. I shouldn't have put you on the spot.” Spencer was inches from my face, his eyes focused on mine.

“It's fine.” My voice came out in a whisper as I backed away from him. I wasn't about to tell him Aidan and I had broken up after that.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I'm good, Spencer. We're fine. I was nervous, scared, but you know how I am.”

Spencer reached out and softly trailed his knuckles down my cheek.
“Yes, I do know how you are.”

“Should we start?” I asked while I backed away.

Spencer nodded and picked up his guitar.

We eased back into our practice time, and when he was satisfied with our performance, we moved to the couch. It felt good to talk and laugh with him. I hadn't laughed in days. Spencer even did an impression of how I looked Sunday night before I approached the stage. Tears were rolling down my cheeks from the laughter. I was certain his impression of me was spot-on. Spencer plopped down on the couch and rejoined me.

“I have to admit…” He laughed. “At one point, I thought you were going to kill me.” He smiled his boyish smile with dimples in full view.

“Trust me, I wanted to.”

Spencer placed a hand on my thigh and rubbed my leg, grazing my knee. I winced back in pain.

“Are you okay?” He quickly removed his hand.

“I hit my leg on the coffee table earlier. It must be bruised.” I rolled up my pant leg to exam it. A small cut was dotted with dried blood, but with the recent friction of pulling up my pant leg, it began to bleed again.

Spencer stood up and held out his hand to help me up. “Come with me,” he commanded.

We walked into the bathroom I'd been in earlier. I sat down on the closed toilet seat while Spencer rifled through the medicine cabinet. He placed a bandage, a few cotton balls, and some antiseptic cream on the small counter.

“Spencer, I'm fine. I bump into things all the time.”

“Apparently you do.” He smiled.

Spencer doused the cotton ball with hot water, applied a small amount of soap to it, and bent to his knees. He gently brushed the cotton back and forth, cleaning off the small abrasion, and leaned down to blow his warm breath across the scrape. A shiver ran through me as Spencer's grey eyes shot up to mine and held my gaze. After what seemed like minutes, he averted his eyes and continued to focus on the task at hand. He applied the antiseptic cream and placed the bandage over it.

“All better,” he said.

A wisp of dark hair fell in front of his eyes. Without thinking I brushed it back with the tips of my fingers. Spencer's eyes met mine again, this time with an intensity that left me feeling helpless. The confines of the small bathroom were getting to me. As much as it pained me, I tore my gaze from his and stood up. Spencer stumbled and fell on his backside.

“Oops, I'm sorry.” I reached out a hand.

Spencer lightly chuckled.

Thankful for the diversion, I helped Spencer to his feet and exited the bathroom.

“It's still pretty early. Can I get you something to drink?” He gestured to the kitchen, and I took a seat on a stool.

Spencer opened the fridge and held up a carton of orange juice and a bottled water. I opted for the water, and he poured it into a glass over ice. Spencer pulled up a stool and placed his orange juice on the island. My eyes followed him, and I focused on his colorful, tatted arms.

I don't know what possessed me, but I slid off the barstool and, without my gaze leaving his, I approached him. I placed my hand on his arm and pushed up the left sleeve of his green t-shirt, revealing his muscular, tatted bicep. His eyes were on mine as he slowly outstretched his sculpted arm, giving me the opportunity to continue my inspection.

Spencer's approval had me eager with enthusiasm. I traced the outline of the lighthouse with the tip of my index finger, and goose bumps rose on his flesh. I turned his arm and admired the detailed script and beautiful foliage. Again, I traced the outline, but this time my attention was on the elegant wording.
Fight, Faith, Finish.
I felt like I should stop, but I couldn't. Seizing my moment, I picked up his hand, finally able to study the script encircling his ring finger
. Amato.
I mouthed the word and looked into his heated gaze. Realization crept in, and I immediately backed away, ashamed.

“I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was doing. I wasn't thinking.” I dashed toward the front door muttering. “I'm so sorry. I should go.” In my haste, I bumped into a small table. A potted plant fell to the hardwood floor and shattered, scattering ceramic pieces and dirt everywhere. I fell to my knees and began picking up the destroyed planter. I could feel the tears starting to come while embarrassment and shame washed over me. The familiar touch of Spencer's warm hand was on my shoulder.

“Hey, it's okay,” he whispered
.
Spencer's compassionate eyes focused on mine as he brought me back up to my feet.

“It's not a big deal, Elizabeth. It's just a plant.” Spencer brushed a tear from my face. I couldn't look at him. His handsome face and tender heart overwhelmed me.

“I'm so sick of you seeing me cry.” I wiped the rest of my tears and backed away from him.

“There is nothing wrong with tears, Elizabeth. Tears cleanse the soul.” His words were like a blanket that warmed me.

“Thank you, Spencer.” I smiled when he walked past me to get a broom. After we cleaned up the mess, we sat back down at the kitchen island.

“Will you tell me about your tattoos?”

Spencer glanced down at his arm, picked up his glass, and tilted his head. “Follow me.”

Intrigued, I grabbed my water and followed him down the hallway to his bedroom. Spencer motioned to the bed. “Sit.”

I did as I was told and sat on the edge of his bed. Spencer took my water and placed it on the bedside table, next to his orange juice. He entered his closet, and I heard him moving things around.

I took the opportunity to inspect the surroundings of his bedroom. The floor-to-ceiling bookcase was packed with an impressive collection of authors. Some were familiar to me. Some weren't. I loved that he was a reader because I was one too. Throughout the bookcase were several groupings of framed pictures.

Spencer's furniture was a dark wood, and the walls were painted a light shade of tan. It seemed to flow with the rest of the house. His bedspread was tan-and-black-striped flannel. His desk area was stacked with papers, open college books, a small desk lamp, and a computer. To the side of the desk was his electric guitar.

Spencer emerged from the closet with a photo album in hand, and he placed it on the bed. He walked over to the photographs on the bookcase and grabbed one. He took a sip of his orange juice, inhaled a deep breath, and sat next to me. He handed me the framed picture, allowing me to study the image. It was a lighthouse, the same one Spencer had inked on his arm. The artist had done an amazing job, because the likeness was identical. Standing in the foreground was a family. Spencer cleared his throat before he pointed to each person in the picture.

“This is my mom, Sharon, my father, Matthew, my sister, Sierra. You know these two, Shawn and Simon. This is me.” Spencer's expression was that of pride and despair.

“What a beautiful family,” I whispered. Spencer's father had the same facial features, same prominent dimples, and the same grey eyes.

“How old are you here?”

Spencer hesitated before he answered. “It was about a year before my father died, so I was eleven.” He was quiet for a few minutes, looking at the picture.

“I'm so sorry, Spencer.” I placed my hand on his tatted arm. “You don't have to tell me anymore.”

“No, Elizabeth, I want you to know. The first time you asked me I wasn't ready, but I am now.” Spencer cleared his throat again before he began to tell me about his pained past.

“My father was on his way home from picking up Sierra from dance class.” Spencer softly laughed at the memory. “Sierra loved to dance. She was always spinning around. It used to drive me nuts.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes at the memory. “Anyway, they were driving down the street, and a car on the opposite side was waiting to turn left. An SUV tried to go around the car, but it was going too fast. It swerved, hit the curb, skidded across the street and slammed into my dad's car head on. My dad died instantly.” Spencer's voice was just above a whisper. “Sierra hung on for two days before she passed away.” After a few silent minutes, he exhaled and began again. “The guy that killed them had been drinking. He was just under the legal limit. He had a good lawyer, ended up pleading
No Contest,
was sentenced to eleven years for vehicular manslaughter, and was out on good behavior in seven.” Spencer shook his head back and forth.

I picked up the frame and glanced over the picture again. “How old was Sierra?”

“Sierra was eight, Shawn was four, and Simon was just a baby.”

It all started to make sense to me. Spencer's protective nature. The way he took care of his brothers.

“So you helped raise your brothers?”

“Not at first. I was pretty messed up after Dad and Sierra died. We all were.”

Spencer got up from the bed and placed the photograph back on the bookshelf. He grabbed the photo album and sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He motioned for me to join him. I crawled up along his side, and he placed the album between us. He began to show me more pictures of the lighthouse. He pointed to a picture of his parents standing in front of it. They were young, and it was just the two of them.