If I Can't Have You (18 page)

What if Whit’s right?

That question is too powerful and too frightening to even think about, so I tuck it into a corner of my brain and tell myself that even if I do see Drake tonight I am going to avoid him like the plague.

~25~

Until you are broken, you don’t know what you’re made of.

~Author Unknown~

Sadie leans against the bedroom door and shakes her head and she watches Whit straighten the same piece of her hair for what seems to be the twentieth time in a row. I sit on the bed. I’ve been ready for the last hour. Sadie glances at me. “Does she always take this long?”

I laugh. “This is nothing.”

Whit’s eyes shift between me and Sadie as she watches us through the mirror. “I can hear you guys,” she mutters, putting on her lip gloss.

“She’s started the lip gloss,” I comment to Sadie. “Don’t worry she’ll only be another twenty minutes.”

Whit unzips her makeup bag and throws her lip gloss in it. “No, I won’t I’m done.”

Sadie lets out a breath and I stand. Whit picks her purse up from off the floor and shoves her makeup bag inside. “Don’t you two know that the beautification process takes time?”

“An hour or two, yes,” I say. “Not half of the day.”

Whit huffs and slings her purse over her shoulder.

The three of us pile into my parent’s car. They went to the fair too, but left early and rode with Sadie’s parents so that we could use the car. The Fourth of July Festival is only a few miles away and mom left me directions on the counter so I made sure to grab those before heading out the door.

It only takes fifteen minutes to drive there. We park the car, I hit the lock button, and double-check all the doors, then Sadie, Whit, and I walk to the entrance.

There’s a huge red, white, and blue banner hanging from two metal poles that reads: Happy Fourth of July. And the tiny fair that only consists of some food booths, a bouncy house for kids, pony rides, and a few games is packed full of what I assume to be townspeople and tourists.

Sadie snags a flier off a table next to the entrance as we walk through and holds it up. “Ohh! Fireworks tonight!”

“Fun,” I say.

Whit grabs both of our wrists and starts pulling us through the crowd of people. “Let’s go see if we can find some hotties to watch them with.”

Well, Whit and Sadie can find some hotties to watch the fireworks with. The only person I want to be curled up on a blanket with, watching the brilliant display of colors in the sky with is Elliot. I wonder if he’ll be here. Silently, I laugh off the thought. There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll be here at some point. And I know since our departing this morning it’s going to be an awkward encounter. I replay the image of my dad chasing him down the beach and shudder. Awkward indeed.

We pass an
Oriental Express
booth and enticing scent of fried rice wafts up my nostrils. A loud growl escapes from my belly and I whine, “I want an eggroll.”

I haven’t eaten anything since lunch and my mouth is salivating at the thought of some good ol greasy, fried fair food.

Whit releases my wrist and she and Sadie wait off to the side while I wait in line.

There are three people in front of me and the person who is currently up at the counter is ordering the whole damn menu. A loud howl rumbles from my stomach and I wrap my arms around my abdomen thinking that might silence it. I’m wrong. A few more grumbles roll out and by that time the person who just ordered a whole smorgasbord steps out of line with four white bags.

By the time I actually make it up the window I’m thinking I might want two eggrolls instead of one. I go with that. “I’d like two vegetable eggrolls,” I tell the person waiting on me as he goes off to make them I reach into my pocket for some cash. And while I’m fishing around for change I hear Whit’s high-pitched laughter and turn my attention toward her and Sadie. Two guys have struck up a conversation with them and Whit is giving the raven-haired guy she’s talking to a flirty grin. I turn back to the window and pay for my food, grab my eggrolls and inhale one as I make my way over to Whit and Sadie.

But I don’t make it very far.

I smack into someone’s back and drop my other eggroll. I’m still so hungry and as I keep my eyes on the eggroll on the pavement I wonder if the five second rule would apply here. Ewww, what am I thinking? Definitely not. Seconds later a heavy set man steps on it and squashes it. There goes that idea anyway.

The person who I ran into is facing me and I stare long and hard at his feet before working my way up to his eyes. A set of gray-blue eyes that are only focused on me. But they’re not the pair of gray-eyes I’ve been hoping for because they don’t belong to Elliot. They belong to Drake. “Hey, kid. Can we talk for a second?”

I really wish I could tell him no. Part of me is screaming the word. No! No! No! The other part of me wants to hear what he has to say. Then again, what could he possibly say to me that’s going to make everything he’s done okay? Whit told me that I’d know if I still have feelings for him if I talked to him and right now I’m not getting anything from him but annoyance. “No,” I tell him making my way back over to Whit.

“Just hear me out, please,” he pleads and grabs my elbow. I face him and decide that maybe I should just let him talk. I know what he says to me isn’t going to change my opinion of him and I decide that if I just pretend like I’m listening to him that maybe he’ll go away.

Somehow I doubt it.

“You’ve got sixty seconds,” I tell him and fold my arms across my chest.

“Okay,” he says. “I lied when I said I didn’t like you like that.” He waits for me to respond, but I don’t so he goes on. “I made a mistake with Sydney. I cheated and there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t regret what I did to her. I did love her, but there was something missing from our relationship. There was no spark. But, you kid, you give me that spark.” Drake shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels and I can tell expressing the way he feels is hard for him. “It terrified me at first, the way I felt about you. It terrified me so much I tried anything to push you away. I messed around with Sadie, I told you I didn’t like you, I even tried to keep my distance, but I couldn’t. And when I saw you on the beach kissing Elliot, I went crazy. I lost it. Kid, you’re the missing piece to my puzzle. I want you. I need you.”

I don’t know what to say. The person I was at the beginning of this vacation would have collapsed into his arms and drank in every word. I would have told him to hold me, kiss me, touch me, and never let me go. But I’m not the same person. I don’t feel the same way. “I’m sorry, Drake, but I—.”

Before I can even get the rest of my words out he’s kissing me, passionate and deep.

At first, my eyes go wide and I try to push him away, but he’s so insistent. And I’m so stupid. I lose myself in it—the kiss—and as it gets more intense and both of us start to breathe heavy, I wait to feel something. But I don’t. I feel nothing.

 
Don’t get me wrong, Drake is a fabulous kisser, but the all of the jumbled emotions I used to experience when kissing him are gone.

When Drake backs out of the kiss his eyes are still closed and he lets out a soft sigh. His eyes open slowly and he smiles. “That was amazing.” I’m glad he thinks so because for me it wasn’t amazing at all.

I open my mouth to tell him how I feel when I hear a third voice joining our little party. “Am I seeing straight?” A sickening feeling tears through the lining of my stomach and shivers of panic runs down my spine as I turn my head, facing voice number three. Elliot. He scowls, eyes wandering between me and Drake. “What the fuck was that?”

I’ve never seen so much anger in his pale blue eyes. “Elliot,” I choke out. Tears are welling up in my eyes and I can’t see straight. “It was nothing, I swear.” Elliot lowers his head, bites his bottom lip, and huffs. When he lifts his head again the hurt look on his face rips my heart out. “Just let me explain.” I move toward him and he backs away. I take another step forward and he backs away again. I reach out to him then glimpse at my trembling fingertips. “Elliot, please. It’s not what you think it is.”

Elliot clenches his jaw and growls, “You’re not who I thought you were, Robin.” And before I can respond he turns away from me and takes off, disappearing into the crowd.

I start after him and Drake catches me by the arm. “Let him go,” he says. “He’ll get over it.”

I peel Drake’s fingers off my arm and frown. “No, you will because you’re not the one I want. He is.”

Then I leave Drake standing amongst a crowd of people and set off to find the boy who thinks I’ve wronged him.

The boy who has my heart, Elliot.

~26~

The heart is like a piece of fine China; delicate, fragile, and easily broken.

I’m running. I shove into body after body, determination pumping through me. As I pick up speed, I take an elbow to the gut and wince, hunching over, dry heaving, but I don’t let it slow me down. I push through and swallow the pain.

Elliot is almost a foot taller than me so I’m able to keep my eyes on the back of his blond head as he maneuvers through the crowd. “Elliot! Wait!” I shout. The scuffling footsteps, incessant chatter, and music from the carnival games mutes the sound of my voice and he doesn’t hear me.

Elliot hangs a right and it only takes me seconds to realize where he’s going. The docks. The place where his boat is parked.

I think back to that dreaded day where he took me and Whit sailing. Honestly though, the day really wasn’t that dreaded. I recall the concern in his voice when he asked me if I was okay, while I was throwing up over the side of the boat. I recall how gentle his touch was when he helped me off of the boat and guided me into Whit’s arms. More than anything I recall the emotion that was in his eyes because I assume the thought of me not enjoying myself bothered him.

Heat rises to my cheeks and I feel like they’re boiling. Tears sting my eyes and rain down my face. After that boat ride was when I realized I more than liked him and now he’s slipping away. And I can’t handle it. My chest heaves, my limbs are trembling, and my heart has blown up into bits and pieces of flesh, splattered on white canvas.

I slow my pace when I reach the dock and my footsteps echo against the wood. I’m breathing heavily and I can still see Elliot feet away. As I lurk closer the wood beneath my feet snaps and creaks and apart from my plodding footsteps the only sound is the gentle slapping of water against the hulls of the boats parked here.

I can’t remember the last time I ran that hard. Maybe gym glass when I was in the tenth grade.

“Elliot!” I shout as I hang my head in between my knees, trying to catch my breath.

Elliot’s footsteps fill my ears and when he hears me call his name his entire body goes rigid. It’s almost like he’s afraid to move. Or face me. It’s always easier to run away from something that’s bothering you or causes you pain. I know that first hand because I’m excellent at shutting people out, at running away from my problems and feelings and insecurities.

But what I’ve learned is you can’t shut yourself off to the way you feel. You can’t push your feelings aside and pretend they don’t exist. Even if you tell yourself to move on and ignore them you can’t. They’ll always be there, stabbing at your heart, your mind, and the core of your soul reminding you that they need to be felt. That you need to care. Otherwise those feelings will gnaw at you, tear at you, and consume you before breaking you down bit by bit.

Right now Elliot is trying to shut me out and I’m not going to let him.

“Elliot, please.” I lurch closer to him. I’ve reached the point where I know I’m begging, but I can’t help it. I am desperate. “I swear, Elliot that kiss meant nothing.”

 
He hasn’t moved since he heard me call his name and it’s making me nervous. “You could at least look at me,” I say with a spike of emotion in my voice and tears filling up my eyes.

Elliot spins around slowly, facing me. For a second I breathe a sigh of relief until I notice the look on his face. He’s glaring, his lips turned down into a frown, and his eyes are hard. Two blocks of blue cement. “What do you want?” His tone is freezing and I shudder.

Bravely, I take a few steps closer. “I want you to hear me out,” I tell him, pleading with my eyes. But he won’t look into my eyes. He’s all over the place, staring at the dock, out into the dark waters of the ocean, and over his shoulder, staring at the rows of docked boats.

“Why don’t you tell me why I should listen to what you have to say?”

“Because what you saw wasn’t what you think it is.”

“What I saw was you kissing my brother.”

“But that’s not—!”

Elliot laughs. His laugh is laced with coldness and anger. It reminds of the laughs villains’' in movies let out when they’ve just finished their evil deed of the day. And the sound of that laugh coming from Elliot terrifies me. He’s never like this. He’s warm, and happy, and loving. I think I’ve driven him crazy. His laughter dies down and he struts toward me, arms folded across his muscled chest, a wicked gleam in his eye. “You know,” he begins in a low, raspy voice, “You’re just like him, Robin. You’re the female version of my brother.”