How to Save a Life(25)

“Why?” I raised my hand, poised it over a particularly dark splotch on his right shoulder blade.

“He’s not bright. He does whatever Shane tells him to.”

“But why does Shane tell him to do this?” I gently touched the bruise beneath his shirt, covering it completely with the flat of my hand. The skin on his arms broke out in gooseflesh.

“To remind me I’m not blood,” he said, looking straight ahead. “And that I’m different.”

I removed my hand. The bruise beneath was still there. “That’s no reason.”

Evan didn’t reply. The air between us seemed to tighten, grow a little colder. “Why are you being nice to me?” he asked in a low voice.

I blinked, my defenses going up at once. “What do you mean? Because—”

He turned on me and I pulled back from the intensity in his gaze. “I’m f*cking serious, Jo. Why are you here? Why are you hanging out with the town freak at a waterpark in the middle of the night? Tell me the truth, please. Please.”

Two pleases.

My jaw worked soundlessly as my brain shuffled through a half-dozen bullshit answers. I had nothing. No words. Instead, I brought my hand up and moved the hair from the left side of my face.

The air felt cold against my damp skin. My left eye, so used to having only a curtain of hair to look at, was suddenly free. It looked at Evan. The suspicion melted off his face; I’d already forgiven him for it anyway. No one was kind to him; I’d have been suspicious too. But mostly I just watched him take what I was offering, my breath held tight in my chest.

He smiled at me.

His eyes roamed over my scarred face. I didn’t sense a shred of revulsion or disgust or even curiosity. Evan Salinger smiled at my messed up face as if it were a gift he wasn’t expecting.

“This,” I whispered. “How you’re looking at me right now. This is why I’m here. I thought…if you saw me, you wouldn’t care that I’m ugly.” I swallowed hard. “You might not think I was ruined.”

Evan’s smile melted into a pained expression, his brows furrowed. He moved closer to me, facing me. “You’re not ruined,” he said softly. “I already saw your scar. When you dove into the pool to save me. When you came out of the water with me, your hair was back and I saw it.”

“I didn’t save you,” I said, hardly able to breathe and he moved even closer, into my space. I felt the heat of his body across the water that separated us, and felt myself pulled toward it.

“You did, Jo. It might not seem like it, but you did. And God, you are not ugly.”

His hand rose up out of the water and I watched it move to my face. I didn’t stop him. His fingertips touched my cheek and his thumb traced the line of my scar from under my eye down to my jaw.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

It was too much. No one looked at me like this. No one told me I was beautiful. And no boy had ever moved to kiss me like Evan did. His face slowly coming toward mine, his eyes gentle, the warmth of his attention like a roaring fire over me.

He covered my mouth with his and inhaled a little while I exhaled. A little sigh that turned to a soft moan as his mouth opened and mine opened with him, letting him in. I let go. The shields guarding my heart lowered. Evan wasn’t taking, he was giving. His kiss gave me those impossible things I’d desperately wanted all my life: tenderness, consideration, reverence.

I took everything in his kiss, turned it around and gave it all back to him. Willingly. Never once wondering what it would cost me later. No price to be paid, only this moment with this boy. The beauty of time and him and his sweet kiss.

I let go.

He caught me and held me up. My arms went around his bruised and beaten body, and I held him up too. Together, we stood upright and unwavering. I was strong in Evan’s arms. And I never wanted it to end. Ever.

My mouth couldn’t get enough of his sweet, clean taste and the scratch of his stubble on my cheek. The scent of his skin in my nose that carried little particles of his life to me: the pool, the auto shop and his own goodness. We kissed forever, the earth ceased rotating to give us more time.

Evan didn’t try to push me past kissing. His hands never stopped moving but they kept to my back or tangled in my hair. They caressed my face and neck while his mouth explored mine. His gentle sweetness broke me down. It was too much.

I broke our kiss and held him tightly around the neck, buried my face against his warm skin, my body trembling against his. It wasn’t safe to let anyone in this close. I fought to find something to say, to dismiss or joke away the kiss before he could.

He kept holding me.

“This doesn’t happen to girls like me,” I whispered against his neck. “Do you know what I mean?”

God, I hoped so. I couldn’t explain it and didn’t want to try. I was beyond words. And because it was Evan, I didn’t need them.

“I know,” he murmured against my neck. “It doesn’t happen to guys like me, either. Believe me.” He held me tighter. “No one touches me.”

No one touches me.

It wasn’t self-pity. Just a simple fact. The pain and cruelty of his life was buried so deep in him, only faint echoes rose up anymore. I held him tighter.

“You’re shivering,” he said after a moment.