Interim (26 page)

Well, and there you had it.

Silence. Long, uncomfortable bout of silence.

“Soooo, you like me?” Jeremy asked finally.

Regan burst out laughing. “I freaking like you a lot! I’ve liked you ever since sixth grade! I even liked you in seventh grade when I hated you! I liked you in eighth grade. I liked you in ninth and tenth and last year and—”

He cut her off with his lips. He kissed her hard, clacking his teeth with hers, hoping he hurt her just the littlest bit. It was punishment for all those years she held the secret. All those wasted years they could have been together—experienced a different, better reality. All those years he longed for an unattainable girl. And here she was, on his counter, giving him her lips and her words and her heart and, just possibly, her future.

He longed to say it. His throat jammed with the words, inflating like voluminous Valentine’s Day balloons: I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!! What would she say? Do? It was much too soon. Just like his desire to see her naked and touch all the secret parts of her body. Too soon! But the words threatened to choke him, so he thrust his tongue in her mouth with urgency, hoping the sentiment would tumble out and slip soundlessly down her throat.

She twisted her fingers in his hair, damp with sweat, then moved them down the back of his head to his neck. She held him trapped to her face, matching his urgent kisses, knowing there would be plenty of time for the soft, sweet ones.

He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. She knew he was thinking, and while she ached to know his thoughts, she respected his privacy. But not his body. He’d kissed her, so he belonged to her now. She lifted her index finger and traced his scar. Up and down and up again. Slow. Careful.

“How did this happen?” she asked softly.

Jeremy almost uttered the lie. It was habit after so many years. But he decided not to lie to her because he trusted her.

“My dad,” he whispered.

Regan cupped his face and forced him to look at her. “What?”

“My dad hit me.” He studied her frown, her concern. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.”

“I can feel whatever I want,” she replied.

He smiled.

“Did he hit you just the one time?” she asked, knowing the answer.

He shook his head. “He’s an angry man.”

Regan said nothing.

“Took me a while to get out of that house, but I’m out.”

“Oh?”

He pointed to the ceiling. She looked up.

“I live in the apartment upstairs. Roy’s renting it to me.”

“Wow, I wish I had my own place,” Regan replied.

“No, you don’t.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad to be out of my dad’s house, but it’s lonely sometimes. And I don’t really know how to cook all that well. Kind of feel like a kid forced to grow up real fast.”

“But you are a kid forced to grow up really fast,” Regan pointed out.

Jeremy bristled. “I’m nineteen.”

“Big deal,” Regan replied, and he laughed. She eyed him curiously. “You wanna learn how to cook?”

“Maybe.”

“You want me to teach you?” she asked.

“Up there?”

She nodded. “Mom says I can’t cook to save my life, but I know how to make the essentials.”

“Like?”

“Brownies. Cupcakes. Mac ‘n cheese. Cereal.”

He laughed. “I have the mac ‘n cheese and cereal under control.”

“Well, what about the baked goods? All right, so I can’t cook, but I sure as hell can bake. Would you like to bake together?” she asked.

“Well, I’m not allowed to have girls in the apartment,” he said, then rolled his eyes. So so stupid.

“But you’re a man,” she argued. “You’re nineteen.”

Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, well, Roy doesn’t see it that way. I guess he doesn’t want me having too much fun.”

Regan chuckled.

“You can come visit me there anyway,” he said after a moment. “We’re not teenagers if we’re not doing something wrong.”

Her giggles turned to full-on laughter. She glimpsed the large clock above the garage doors and sighed, hopping off the counter.

“Man, I gotta go.”

Jeremy nodded.

Regan picked up her bags and slung them over her shoulder. She turned to face Jeremy a last time.

“I shouldn’t have wanted to go fast,” she said. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

“It didn’t,” he replied.

“I’m not a ho,” she clarified.

“Never thought that.”

She considered him. “It’s just, I’ve done some things.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Apparently not very well,” she added.

He frowned in confusion.

“Oh, please,” she said, looking at him dead on. “Like you didn’t hear the rumors.”

“Rumors are rumors.”

“Rumors are hurtful.” She eyed him expectantly.

He knew her unspoken question.

“Don’t ask me if you’re a good kisser. I’ll be offended.”

“Why?”

“Because you kissing me has nothing to do with that guy and his stupid rumors,” Jeremy replied.

Regan nodded.

“But if you must know,” he whispered, averting his eyes, “it was fucking awesome.”

She smiled. “I . . . I really don’t move fast. I mean, it’s weird that I acted like that. I got really excited. You made me feel things I’ve never felt. Is that cheesy?”

He shook his head.

“Yes, it is,” she mumbled. “So freaking cheesy. But whatever. It’s true.”

Silence.

“When you’ve gone so many years wanting something, and then you finally get it, sometimes you don’t react appropriately. The feelings are too intense. You don’t know how to handle them. Like being in a manic state, I guess. Out of your mind. That’s how I felt when you kissed me.”

His heart warmed—heat building slowly at the base and curling its way up and around the chamber walls.

“And I wanted to feel everything at once. And give you everything. And take from you.” She paused. “And now I know why people have sex two seconds after meeting each other. If they’re insanely attracted to each other, that is.”

He laughed.

“Now multiply that times ten trillion, because I didn’t just meet you. I’ve known you forever. So the build-up . . .” Her words disappeared into the damp space of the garage.

He nodded. Girls were so much better with their words. Everything she said he felt but could never voice. He was glad she could. She could speak for the both of them.

“Ditto,” he said, then wished immediately that he could take it back.

She laughed. “You’re such a guy.”

“And you’re such a girl.” He grinned at her. “And I’m glad for it.”

Long after she left, he stood staring at his Camaro. All along he wanted it running so that he could run away. That had been the plan from Day 1. Now his motivation changed. He needed a working car to take his girl out on a date.

~

Let’s talk hypotheticals. IF I decided to nix my current plan, how do I ensure that the evil ones get what they deserve? My biggest fear is that I do nothing, allowing them the opportunity to victimize more people. I can’t have that on my conscience. Plus, I made a promise to them. I made a promise to the ones enduring the abuse now, and I made a promise to all the ones who would have endured it in the future. I can’t abandon them. That would, in essence, make me a bully. So what are my alternatives?

~

The shift happened naturally. After her breakdown at the garage and subsequent kiss, life moved effortlessly. She didn’t care about her old one. She cared about rediscovering her old-old life—the one that came before she conformed. The one that defined her as someone real, happy, and special before she lost her identity to popularity. She couldn’t regret the wasted years of high school. She wouldn’t. She chalked them up to a learning experience, tucked all the memories in her heart, and swept some of the darker ones into that forgotten corner. Soon, she really would forget.

She held hands with him at school. The reactions were over the top—obnoxious gasps and wicked whispers. The stuff that fuels gossip which, in turn, fuels mistruths.

Bring it on
, she thought, allowing the defiance to register on her face as she walked the halls. She scowled at them. She smiled at him.

Took a while for the gossip to subside about her freak-out—the fact that she threatened another student’s life. Her suspension from school and soccer was becoming old news by now, but her budding romance reheated the flames. Little bonfires of students dotted the hallways, talking shit, making jokes—flames flying high at the sound of their cackles.

Jeremy tugged on his hand. She wouldn’t let go.

“It’ll die down,” she said. “And anyway, what do we care?”

“I liked being in the shadows,” he said softly.

“Lost in the shadows?” she joked.

He furrowed his brows.

“Dude, my shirt!” she said, jabbing a thumb into her chest.

He looked at her chest—didn’t need an invitation—and read “The Lost Boys” aloud.

He chuckled. “I only get it because I watched the movie with you. And you’re a dork, by the way.”

He’d never teased her like that, by calling her a name. He wasn’t sure he should, having experienced being on the receiving end of countless humiliating names over the years. He opened his mouth to apologize.

“Hey, you’re dating me. What’s that say about you?” she said, linking her arm with his.

It was a strange reality, and he rather liked it. A lot. Too much, if he were being honest, and he wondered how he could blast it all away come spring. He shook his head to rid the thought, but there he stood in the distance—an opaque future version of himself—firing the weapons that would destroy his world.

“
Their
world,” he mumbled insolently. “Not mine.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Are you talking to yourself again?” Regan asked.

He looked down at his brand new, smoking hot girlfriend and smiled sheepishly. And then he shrugged.

“God, Jeremy, stop that! A shrug is not an answer.”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer either.”

“Did I say something out loud?”

“Uh, yeah. You said ‘their world, not mine.’ What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, for God’s sake . . .”

Every now and then she caught him talking to himself. She didn’t think it particularly odd. She talked to herself, too, especially in the midst of problem-solving. Perhaps that’s what he was doing, but his unintentional words still bothered her the tiniest bit because she wasn’t invited to share in them. Okay, truth. She was dying to get inside his brain—to run around maniacally, gather all his thoughts like a crazed collector and trap them in jars she’d line up on her dresser.

“Oh, my God, I’m a freaking psycho,” she muttered.

“Huh?”

“What?” she replied quickly.

Jeremy grinned.

“Okay, fine. So we both talk to ourselves out loud. It’s freaking weird, and that makes sense because, I mean—” She snorted. “—look at us.”

He threw his head back and laughed. He’d only laughed a handful of times at school. The sound didn’t belong in the hallway and was cut short when Regan fell to the ground. A trip. A snicker.

“
Soooo
mature, Ethan,” she spat, grabbing Jeremy’s hand and pulling herself up. “What are you, like, ten?”

Jeremy released her and headed toward her tormentor.

“Don’t you dare,” Regan cried, grabbing his shoulders from behind.

He froze, fists balled, staring at the back of Ethan’s head. Ethan turned around.

“That’s right, Jer. Don’t you dare,” he said, and chuckled. “And it rhymed, too!”

“You’re an idiot,” Jeremy spat.

“And you’re a loser,” Ethan shot back.

Regan felt Jeremy’s shoulder muscles flex under her palms.

“Not worth it,” she said softly.

“He’s a fucking douche,” Jeremy grumbled under his breath.

“I know. You know. At least half the school knows. So don’t waste your time on him.”

Jeremy turned around. His brows were stitched together in a deep V—anger, confusion, and defiance knitted in one undeniable picture of resolve. Regan understood.

“It’s not worth it,” she repeated in a low whisper. “Leave it alone.”

“He won’t do that to you again.”

“Yes, he will. Many times. And if I wanna take care of it with another punch to his nose, then I’ll do it. You stay out of it,” she warned.

“Another punch to his nose?” Jeremy asked.

She smiled coyly. “Oh, I never told you that story?” She linked her arm with his once more and pulled him gently down the hall. She rested her head against his shoulder. “Well, a long time ago, I was a hero . . .”

***

He caught up with her at the end of the school day.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked, falling in step beside her.

She shifted her bag to the other shoulder and picked up her pace. “Around.”

“Around where? Where do you go at lunch?”

“Different places,” she replied.

Her noncommittal responses aggravated him.

“Yeah, I figured. I was asking for specifics,” he said.

She stopped abruptly. “Why? What do you care?”

“Uh, I’m your friend,” he replied.

She snorted.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

Before, he’d never pose the question. He’d accept her response for what it was. He wouldn’t try to understand. But his heart was changing—growing in love—and he discovered he cared. He cared for Hannah. He cared that she’d been absent for two weeks, and he wanted to know why.

“It’s not like you care or anything,” she said dismissively.

“Yeah, I do,” Jeremy replied.

She shuffled her feet. “You . . . you got your thing going on. I respect that. And I’m happy for you. I am. But I don’t care to be a third wheel in your freak show.” She glanced at him with a half grin.

“I don’t get it. You and I have been a freak show for years. What difference does it make if we bring in a third person?”

“Three’s a crowd.”

“But I thought you and Regan were friends,” he pointed out.

Another noncommittal grunt.

“You’re not friends?”

Pause.

“We tolerate each other,” Hannah said finally.

Another, slightly longer pause.

“Did something happen between you two?” Jeremy asked.

“So not discussing it,” Hannah replied, and pressed forward toward the student parking lot. Jeremy tagged along.

“What happened between you two?” he persisted.

“None of your business. And it’s freaking embarrassing, anyway. And I’ve no idea how you can’t know. The entire fucking school knows.”

“Who talks to me, Hannah, besides you?” he cried. “I never know anything!”

“Just as well.”

“Stop,” he said, pulling gently on her arm.

Only then did he notice the slight change in her eyes. They were decorated with a bit of eyeshadow and mascara. He stared at them—so bright. So pretty. He momentarily forgot his next statement.

“Yeah, I wore some make-up today,” she said. “Big fucking deal. I’m a girl, and girls wear make-up.”

“I like it,” he whispered. “I never knew your eyes were that blue.”

She squirmed uncomfortably. “Don’t say cheesy shit like that, Jer. It doesn’t suit you.”

He nodded and continued to stare.

“Stop looking at me!” Hannah snapped.

He shook his head. “Hannah, what happened between you and Regan?”

His deepest fear was that it involved bullying. He couldn’t imagine Regan would ever mistreat someone, but if Hannah was unwilling to address it—as victims of bullying are wont to do—then he’d have to face an ugly truth about his dream girl.

He held his breath. Hannah eyed him strangely.

“Your perfect girlfriend didn’t do anything wrong, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said.

He exhaled long and loud. Hannah rolled her eyes and then had a change of heart.

“Well, she ran her mouth to Casey, which started the downward spiral, but I don’t think she did it with the intention of fueling gossip. I don’t think she knew how evil her best friend was. Which, by the way, is a really disgusting trait of hers—to be so naïve.”

“Cryptic,” Jeremy said patiently.

“All right, all right.” Hannah hesitated. “I kissed her.”

Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up. They finally arrived at Hannah’s car on the far side of the massive parking lot, and she opened her door.

“What the hell? You don’t think you’re leaving, do you?” he asked.

She laughed. “No, dummy. Get in. I’ll drive you to work.”

Hannah recounted the story on the short drive to Roy’s.

“Ninth grade. I was crying in the bathroom because I didn’t understand why all these girls weren’t talking to me anymore. They talked to me in eighth grade. What the hell changed? And then Regan comes in and asks me what’s wrong, and I really didn’t want to tell her because she was one of them—”

“She was mean to you?” Jeremy asked.

“No, she wasn’t mean. But she hung out with them, so she just stopped talking to me. I mean, every now and then she’d say hi, but we weren’t, like, friends or anything.”

Jeremy nodded.

“So anyway, I’m crying and she’s asking me what’s wrong, and before I know it, she’s hugging me. It felt . . . good. And then she pulled away and wiped my tears, and I took it as an invitation.”

“Is that usually how it goes with girls?” Jeremy asked. “I mean, if they’re interested in each other? They wipe each other’s tears?”

Hannah snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

“Well, how should I know?” Jeremy cried defensively.

“No, that’s not how it goes between lesbians. I misread the signs. I kissed her, and she just froze for a second, and then she pulled away and told me I had the wrong idea.”

Jeremy said nothing.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know I was gay,” she said, pulling into an empty parking space.

“I never thought about it,” Jeremy admitted. “And it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway.”

“Well, that’s because you’re a nice guy and because you’re wrapped up in your own shittastic life,” Hannah replied.

Jeremy chuckled.

“Well, I’ll amend that. What
used
to be your shittastic life,” Hannah said. “You’ve got the girl now, so . . .”

“My whole world doesn’t revolve around her,” Jeremy pointed out.

Hannah burst out laughing. “You’re such a bad liar, Jer.”

He said nothing.

“Anyway, she told Casey what happened, and that’s when the bullying really ramped up. I don’t think she meant for that to happen, but it did. And I’ve had a suck ass life ever since. Well, if you don’t count the shit with my parents.”

“Mine started in sixth grade,” Jeremy said.

“I remember,” Hannah replied. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

She grinned. “So Regan and I had a huge argument a few weeks ago and sort of cleared the air. I guess she’s all right now, but I still don’t know how I feel about hanging out with her. It’s weird.”

He nodded.