Instead of You(33)

She walked toward me and it might as well have been in slow motion. The way her hips swayed, the way her eyes dipped as she tucked her hair behind her ear, the slow emersion of her teeth behind her smile—I could have watched it a million times.

The closer she got to me, the pinker her cheeks became. We didn’t say anything to each other, couldn’t risk it, but just as she passed me I reached out my finger to trail it across the back of her hand. I felt more in just that one run of my skin along hers than I had in any of the encounters I’d had with women in the last four years.

I’d never touched anyone the way I touched Kenzie. I touched her with delicate pressure, with intention, to try and give her some measure of how much I cared about her. There were no ulterior motives, no hopes that one touch would lead to many. Most of the time I felt as though if I never touched her again, I could live off the memory of my hands on her, of her lips on mine. That wouldn’t stop me from reaching out to her though, from daring to touch her in an untouchable place, where everything I’d worked so hard for could be stripped away from me.

She didn’t stop, she didn’t say anything, and she didn’t tense at my touch—she took it, claimed it, and continued down the hall. I knew in that moment, although it was probably already a foregone conclusion, that McKenzie Harris had taken a piece of me I’d never get back.



That evening when I arrived home I found my mom asleep on the couch. I was both glad she’d gotten out of bed, but a little worried that she was still sleeping.

“Mom,” I said, gently shaking her shoulder. “Mom,” I repeated softly. Finally, after a few nudges, she started to rouse.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said just after opening her eyes.

“You’re out of bed,” I said as she sat up.

“I woke up and you were gone, so I decided to try and watch some TV. You know, to keep my mind occupied.”

Well, it could have been worse. She could have wandered into Cory’s room. I’d found her there a few times over the last month, sitting on his bed and staring off into space, or clutching his pillow and sobbing. She swore she could still smell him on it. I took her word for it.

“How are you feeling?” A shadow fell over her face.

“It’s hard to be awake.” Her voice was almost as frail as her body.

“I know, Mom,” I whispered. “Can I make you something to eat?”

She gave me a smile that was just a shattered shell of what it used to be. “Sure, sweetie. That sounds good.” She stood at the same time I did, just ten times slower, and started heading back toward her room. “I’m just going to take a shower first.”

“Okay.” I started gathering what I’d need to make her dinner, but when I heard the shower start and the unmistakable sounds of her under the water, I went in her room to change her sheets.





Chapter Thirteen


McKenzie


The morning I woke up in Hayes’s arms was, well, perfect. I’d never felt as cherished as I did with him, never wondered whether my heart was going to beat right out of my chest, or if my cheeks were just going to melt away from the heat.

Being in his class got easier because after that morning I no longer worried about what we were doing or what we were to each other. I knew he wanted it just as much as I did, so it was easier to be around him. The ache to touch him was still there, and my eyes still roamed over his body like they owned him, but it wasn’t the agony it had been at first.

I don’t know if my friends noticed some difference in me and my demeanor, but they started treating me differently as well. They no longer coddled me or handled me with gloves. They joked around with me, teased me, hugged me without sadness, and that, too, was better. I was in the midst of beginning to remember Cory, instead of constantly being reminded that he was gone. Holly and Becca no longer avoided topics for fear of bringing him up and making me sad. Instead, we talked about him, we laughed over our memories, and even if just a little bit, the guilt eased.

I smiled when I opened my locker and saw his picture. I laughed when Todd retold the story of the time Cory took his clothes and tossed them downriver once when we’d all gone skinny dipping. Things were getting better, and I wanted to cling to that, to bring it with me all the time just to show everyone, to say “Look! I miss him, but I didn’t end with him. We have to keep moving, in part, because he can’t.”

Along with all the joys of living again, there also came the fear of what would happen when it all came crashing down. Someday, if Hayes and I continued, everyone would find out about us, and they would all have an opinion about it. There were moments I couldn’t care less what other people thought, but then I’d think of our parents, of Mrs. Wallace specifically, and I’d feel nauseous. I didn’t want to have to explain to her how I’d been in love with Hayes for two years, but still stayed with Cory because I loved him too, just not in the same way.

Thinking about it gave me headaches.

However, watching Hayes lightly tapping a pile of papers into a neat stack was more than enough to ease those fears. The bell hadn’t rung yet and students were still trickling into the classroom. The desk next to me, Cory’s old desk, had remained eerily empty. We didn’t have assigned seats, people could sit wherever they wanted, but no one had taken the desk Cory had claimed as his own, right next to me. So, when a body slid into it I startled, my gaze pulled from Hayes and landing on Nathan Patterson.