In Every Way (13 page)

Embarrassing things often make me cry. I’m the kind of girl who can burst into tears if my presentation at school goes even the slightest bit wrong. As of a few minutes ago, I’ve never been so humiliated in my life, yet there are no tears in my eyes.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” I say as I climb into Grandma’s car. “Sorry you had to cut ladies’ night short.”

“We don’t mind,” Julie says from the front seat. “Now tell us why you’re sneaking in here from the woods.”

In an effort to escape the mind-blowingly terrible thing that just happened, I’d ran into the woods nearest to the barn and hid there while I called my grandmother. I could hear Josh calling my name, and watched him search his truck for me, but I stayed hidden behind the trees so he couldn’t see me. I am not in the mood to ever talk to him again. It’s all just too embarrassing to think about.

“Just . . . it’s a long story,” I say while Grandma pulls back into traffic. They both give me forlorn looks before turning back to face the front of the car. I stare at my phone and ignore another call from Josh. “Someone made fun of me and I was humiliated, so I left.”

“And why were you hiding?” Grandma asks.

My shoulders fall and I slump into the backseat. “I just didn’t want anyone to chase after me and try to apologize for some jerk’s comments.”

“Hmm,” Grandma says, with a little head nod. “I wish you wouldn’t let people steal the joy from your life.”

I don’t bother saying anything to that.

***

My stomach heaves, launching its contents into the grass. Turns out liquor tastes just as awful coming back up as it did going down. I put a hand on the tree trunk as I puke up my guts for the second time in half an hour.

I’m not drunk, not even close.

Stress puking is back. I haven’t thrown up in a few years, not since junior high when being mocked senselessly made me vomit in the bathroom after lunch. Grandma said it was stress induced, the body’s reaction to being in fear.

Now it’s back. I wonder if that’s because I haven’t let myself cry. It doesn’t matter now, it’s happened and I can’t go back and undo it.

I spit one final time and then turn back to the house. So much for sitting outside and enjoying the night alone.

After Grandma and Julie brought me home, I’d convinced them I was fine and made them go back to bingo. Then I went outside hoping to do some star-gazing and put this entire awful night off my mind.

But it didn’t go away. In fact, I thought about it too much that it made me puke.
Awesome
.

With a heavy sigh, I walk back inside and brush my teeth, then take a quick shower. It doesn’t really make me feel any better. All I can think of is the way Bryce’s face looked, the disgust etched in his features. That’s how I’ve been expecting Josh to react to being around me, even though he never did.

And now, more than ever, I know he was sincere. I heard him yell at Bryce—hell, I let him
kiss
me. Josh wasn’t talking to me all these weeks for some kind of bet like in a stupid movie.

I think he really liked me.

I towel off my wet hair and look up into my vanity mirror, letting that thought sink in. I kissed Josh Graham tonight. My first kiss wasn’t stupid or with some random guy. It was Josh, my email buddy, the coconut scented hot body that works a few stores down from me. I guess I can take solace in knowing that my first kiss was with someone so tender and sweet, and let’s face it—sexy as hell. Too bad I can never talk to him again.

It’d just be too humiliated. Whatever weird force of nature kept him from realizing how fat and gross I am is shattered now, thanks to Bryce pointing it out. He’ll forever look at me in a different light now, even if he did lower his standards tremendously by talking to me in the first place.

Knowing I can’t let myself see him again feels worse than if he’d been the one to make those remarks about my weight. I know he wants to talk to me, but I can’t bear the thought of it. I can’t look him in the eyes anymore, now that he knows who I am. Bessie the cow. The fat girl his best friend ridiculed mercilessly when we were kids.

My stomach flops over again and I have to take a few deep breaths to get it to calm down. For now, I am safe in my room.

I flip on the TV and grab my hair dryer, bending to plug it in by my nightstand. Hot tears sting the back of my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. I’ve cried enough in my lifetime. I am better than this, better than what some stupid guy thinks of me. I’ll rise above it, especially since I plan to keep dieting.

But I should probably quit my job so Josh doesn’t get any bright ideas to show up at Aiden Jane and force me to talk to him.

While I’m blow-drying my hair, I delete my texts with Josh just so I don’t have to read them anymore. I try to focus on the show on TV, even though I can’t hear it over the whir of the hair dryer. I then try to play a game on my phone, but even that doesn’t work. No amount of doing stuff can take away the visions of kissing Josh that float through my mind. He is burned into my memory, every touch, every kiss.

A weird sound makes me look up and shut off the hair dryer. It happens again and I mute the TV. Fear claws up my throat as the sound taps on my window. Someone is outside and I am all alone.

Panic has me rooted to the bed for a few moments and then I finally get the good sense to grab my cell phone and turn it on. I go to type the numbers 9-1-1 and then a soft sound makes me pause.

“Bess? Are you there?”

My breath hitches, my phone falling to the bed. He calls my name again, this time followed by a gentle knock on my window. I have thick wooden blinds and black curtains so I know he can’t see inside.

But Josh Graham is here, waiting on me to talk to him.

I’ve been to two other windows, but this is the only one with a sliver of light peeking out through the cracks. I don’t try to see inside, that’s just too stalkery, and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. But there’s nothing wrong with tapping on windows at eleven o’clock at night, calling out someone’s name, right?

“Bess, it’s me,” I say a little louder, hoping she’s on the other side listening. “Please talk to me.”

I lean forward, my weight pressing on my toes as I stare at the window, hoping to see the curtains move, the blinds lift up, and Bess, standing there with a smile on her face.

I wait a few seconds and consider knocking again. I’m pretty sure she would have heard me by now. There are no other cars in the driveway besides her own, so I’m guessing she’s alone. At least I hope she is. My hand hovers in the air as I decide to either knock again or just walk away.

To my left, the front door swings open with a creak and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Oh shit,” I breathe, as I stumble back from the hedges near the window. “You scared me.”

Bess stands there in black leggings and a white T-shirt that has a big cat’s face across the front. “Josh,” she says slowly, articulating the word just like my teachers used to do when they were mad at me. Her hands open wide, gesturing to the doorframe. “This is a front door. It’s normally considered the entryway to a home. And do you see this?” she says, pointing to the mat just outside of her door. “It says ‘welcome’, which is a common term used to welcome visitors into a home.”

“Yeah,” I say sheepishly as I walk through the grass and toward her front porch, shoving my hands in my pockets. “I’m aware of that.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “So why didn’t you knock on this damn door instead of my window?”

“I’m—uh,” I say, stumbling over my words. I can’t possibly tell her I thought it was kind of romantic now, that she’s standing here all pissed off. My shoulders lift and fall. “I guess I’m an idiot.”

“I almost called the cops on you, Josh. I was two seconds away from it when I heard your voice. I was scared someone was about to break in and murder me.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” I say, dragging my hand down my face. “I’m an idiot. I only wanted to talk.”

“Maybe I should sign you up for reading lessons at the local elementary school because I thought I told you in my text that I didn’t want to talk.”

“Yeah, okay. You did, but—” I begin, only to be cut off by her hand slicing quickly through the air.

“But you didn’t care because you’re
Josh Graham
and you get anything you want and
anyone
you want and you have absolutely zero respect for anyone’s opinions unless they match with yours, right? You knew I didn’t want to talk to you and you came over here and forced me to talk against my will because you just don’t care about anyone else but yourself.”

“Whoa.” I step backward, feeling as though her words just kicked all the air out of my lungs. “That’s . . . I’m sorry.” Every rational thought in my brain is telling me to apologize, turn around and leave, but my heart steps up to the plate and takes charge for one last round.

I peer up at her and run a hand through my hair. “Bess, I’ll go, I just need to say one thing.”

She heaves a sigh, her lips pressing together, but she doesn’t tell me to leave, so I keep talking. “I’m not trying to be a selfish prick by bothering you, I swear I’m not. I’m just crazy about you, okay? We met and you’re adorable and sweet and smart. I want to get to know you. I’m sorry for taking you to that stupid party tonight when I should have taken you out somewhere nice. Forget that fuckwad Bryce, because he’s no longer my friend after that shit he pulled. Please don’t send me away, Bess. I am crazy about you.”

Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. “You barely even know me.”

“I know enough to know I want you in my life.” I feel like a desperate man on the edge, making one last ditch effort to win over the girl of his dreams. The look she’s giving me right now isn’t helping my situation. Her lips press together and she glances behind me, probably at my truck that’s parked on the other side of the road, and then her chest rises with a deep breath. “You can come in,” she says after an agonizing moment of contemplation. She steps to the side and motions for me to enter, which I do quickly before she changes her mind. She closes the door behind us and locks it. “But only for a minute.”

“Okay,” I say, the relief evident in my voice. “Thank you.”

The living room is small and smells like potpourri, with pastel furniture and little crocheted doilies everywhere. I remember that she said she lives with her grandmother, and that’s pretty obvious now. Still, there’s a homey feeling in here, welcoming and inviting. I find myself wondering if her grandma would like me if she ever gets the chance to meet me.

Bess leads me down a narrow hallway that’s lined with photos of herself through the ages. In her bedroom, she has a matching white furniture set with a Victorian flare to it that my little sister would probably love.

“Nice room,” I say, looking around at everything in its place, except for a desk in the corner that’s covered with colorful papers, glue, and scissors that remind me of being in kindergarten.

“You’re not here to look at my room,” Bess says, closing her bedroom door behind us. She hesitates and then twists the lock. Turning back to me, she says, “Grandma will be home soon and I can’t have her knowing you’re here.”

“No boys allowed?” I say, a grin playing on my lips.

She shakes her head. “Actually, I don’t know what the rules are about that, but I kind of talked shit about you when I had her pick me up tonight so if she sees you now she’ll probably have even harsher words than I have for you.”

“Ah.” The urge to bolt out of here before coming face-to-face with her grandmother is only overshadowed by my need to get back in Bess’s good graces. She sits on the end of her bed and looks at me, arms crossed. I choose to sit in her desk chair.

“Thanks for letting me in.”

She shrugs. “I don’t think we should be friends.”

“Great,” I say cheerfully. “Let’s be more than friends. Being friends is overrated anyway.”

She rolls her eyes, but a smile plays at her lips and I seize the opportunity to keep talking. “Bess, I am crazy about you. I wish you hadn’t left earlier. Fuck Bryce.”

“I think that’s the exact opposite of what he’d like me to do,” she says sardonically. The mental image that conjures up in my mind makes me grimace with jealousy. “That’s obviously not what I meant.”

Kicking my feet, I roll Bess’s desk chair across the carpet until my knees knock into hers and I’m sitting right in front of her. “Why did you let me inside instead of kicking me out?”

She stares at her lap. I reach up and take her hands into mine, rubbing my thumb across her palm. “I guess I just wanted to see if you were truly being genuine,” she says, looking up at me through her eyelashes.

I stand, pulling her up with me, my hands sliding around her waist and holding her close. She lets her head rest against my chest and I hold her tight, breathing in her scent.

“I have never been so serious in my life,” I whisper. “I want you to be my girl. If not now, then soon. Please let me in, Bess. Give me a chance.”

She pulls up to look at me, and I give her a smile, hoping she’s about to kiss me again. Her eyes fill with tears, and she looks away.