One To Watch(52)
“You liked him?” Wyatt asked.
“Yeah.” Bea felt her face flush, feeling so silly that even now, more than a decade later, while she was starring on a television show and James was who-knows-where, it still made her feel so small to admit she’d had a crush on a boy.
“I thought the fact that he was quiet meant that he was shy, or secretly really deep.” She laughed uncomfortably. “I imagined that he wanted to have these intense conversations, that he would love having them with me. I thought it was some big secret that I liked him, but my brothers knew—Tim said something about it at dinner once, and I was so embarrassed. I left the table in tears.”
“It’s okay that you’re sensitive,” Wyatt said softly. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of that.”
“I wish he’d been more like you,” Bea said. “You’re the version of him that I actually wanted.”
“What happened when he kissed you?” Wyatt asked.
“Um,” Bea took a deep breath, “there was a party in the woods, a couple of weeks into my freshman year. Tim and Duncan brought me along, and at first it was so cool, you know? Talking with their friends, and the girls were so nice to me, making me feel like I belonged. But then … um. Then James asked if I wanted to go for a walk.”
“And of course, you did.”
“Of course I did! It seemed like a miracle, like somehow this secret wish I’d held for so long was becoming real.” Bea paused, a wave of nausea washing over her as she realized she’d used nearly the same words to describe her first kiss with Ray.
“Anyway,” she went on, “he took me a little ways into the woods, away from everyone else. I thought maybe we would talk or something, but he was just on me, kissing me, shoving his hands under my dress. He was really rough with me. And I just—I didn’t want it. I was so afraid, and so confused because I’d imagined being with him for so long, but the reality was awful and terrifying and nothing like I’d hoped. After a couple of minutes I couldn’t take it, I started crying and begging him to get off me.”
“Did he listen?” Wyatt asked carefully.
“Yes,” Bea said firmly. “Thank God, he did. But he looked so disgusted with me. He said he only kissed me because my brothers asked him to. That no one else would want me, and I should be grateful. I said I was sorry—can you imagine? I apologized to him.”
“Jeez.” Wyatt shook his head. “What happened then?”
“Nothing. He went back to the party, and I hid by Tim’s car until it was time to leave. I was too ashamed to tell my brothers what happened. I assume James never told them either—or if he did, they never said anything about it to me.”
Wyatt sighed heavily, like he was absorbing some of the weight of Bea’s past, lifting it off her shoulders and carrying it on his.
“Bea,” he asked, “would it be okay if I hugged you?”
“Very okay,” she whispered, and it felt so good to settle into Wyatt’s strong arms.
“Do you think about James much?”
“Not really.” She exhaled as she leaned comfortably against his chest. “But I guess there’s something about men who look like him—who look like you, who look like all the men here, if I’m honest. Some part of me that still feels like I should be grateful for any attention you show me, even if it’s nothing close to the way I want to be loved.”
“What would happen if one of us proved you wrong?” Wyatt touched Bea’s hair gently, tipping her face up toward his. “What would you think then?”
“I guess I’d have to reassess.” She smiled, and Wyatt leaned down to kiss her.
It was a slow kiss, and quiet—a kiss that drew Bea in and spread warmth all through her body, a kiss that broke her heart a little as she realized the same sense of longing she’d felt as a teenager (for romance, for passion—hell, even for prom) was still screaming inside her. And the more she tried to push it down, to tell herself it didn’t matter, that she was fine being single, that she didn’t need any of this, the more it roared to the surface, threatening to dislodge everything she thought she believed.
As they pulled apart, a few of the kids hooted and cheered, and Bea laughed for joy, for awkwardness, for absurdity. It was, she realized later, only the second time she’d ever been kissed in her hometown.
TEXT MESSAGE TRANSCRIPT, MARCH 21: JON, TIM, AND DUNCAN SCHUMACHER
Jon [11:18am]: What are you guys wearing to this thing? Is there a dress code?
Tim [11:20am]: It’s just a cookout at Mom’s, we can wear anything
Duncan [11:21am]: No, guys—no prints, no letters, no visible brands, remember? They laid it all out in the email from the producers
Tim [11:22am]: ICE CREAM ICE CREAM ICE CREAM
Jon [11:22am]:??
Tim [11:23am]: Sorry, Amy got my phone
Tim [11:24am]: We’ve got to present a united front, let these guys know they can’t mess with our sister
Tim [11:24am]: We need to wear something that shows them we mean business
Duncan [11:25am]: Like … business suits?
Jon [11:25am]: If I wear a suit, Carol will want to change what she’s wearing, and I’m not getting into that again
Tim [11:26am]: So what then?