Coast
Page 12
“It’s hard for me to have you both here,” I continue, my voice cracking. “But that’s on me, not you. I’m sorry I keep hurting you, Becs. It’s the last thing I want.”
She looks up, a perfect frown on her beautiful mouth, and I force myself to not reach out and run my thumb across her lips. After putting the camera away, she grabs her phone from the back pocket of her denim shorts and starts to type, moving closer so I can read it. Friends?
No single word in the history of unrequited love has ever caused more pain than the word friends. Not that I’d know. I had Nat, and then I had her. I smile. I nod. “Sure.”
Her grin is instant, and for some pathetic reason it causes more pain than that single word. But I remember Robby’s speech and remind myself that it isn’t about me, so I return her smile and throw in another nod, because it’s what I promised I’d do, but in my mind, I’m already picking out the boards I plan to smash the second she leaves. But then she steps closer, and closer again and her arms start to rise and a part of me wants to run, wants to push her away, because I know she’s about to touch me… and when she finally does, her arms around my neck, I feel the burst of life kick in… the exact same moment I feel a part of me die.
Her cheek presses against my chest and my arms go around her waist and I die a little more, and the longer we stand there, my arms wrapped around the only person who’s ever truly seen me, I can feel myself sinking, drowning, begging for air. I force myself to pull away, but she holds me to her, her head lifting and her eyes locked on mine. Her smile’s gone now, the frown back in place, and I get lost in her gaze, a place that holds all my secrets, my fears, my desires. Then she rises to her toes, her mouth against my ear, and her breath warm against my skin. “Thank you,” she whispers.
My eyes widen in shock, my heart… I have no idea what it’s doing, but apparently she finds my reaction amusing because she laughs, or at least her version of a laugh and seeing it gives me the same feeling of life and death. I’m about to speak but my name being called cuts me off. Chris walks up the driveway, his look of shock matching mine from only seconds ago. “Becca.” There’s distaste in the way he says her name and I know why, I just don’t want her to know why. So, I release her quickly and turn to Chris, squaring my shoulders as I move her behind me.
“Thanks for coming,” I tell him.
“It’s no problem. In fact, I’m glad I showed up. Who knows—”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“No, Warden,” he says. “I think we should talk about it now.”
Shaking my head, I narrow my eyes at him. Then I give in to the inevitable and turn to Becca. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
Her bottom lip traps between her teeth, her eyes worried as she looks between Chris and me.
“It’s fine,” I assure her, then face Chris and motion toward my apartment.
The second we’re behind closed doors, he lets me have it. “What the hell are you doing, Warden?” he yells.
“I’m not doing anything! Jesus Christ.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks, his eye roll adding punch to his sarcasm. “I can totally see that.”
“Not here. Not now,” I grind out. “Give me a fucking break!”
“A break? You had a break! You took two weeks off after the shit you pulled in St. Louis.”
My head lowers, my hands at my hips. “So fucking what?”
“So fucking what?” he repeats. “This isn’t a fucking game, Warden. You’re a pro athlete now. You have people paying you big money and those people depend on you—”
“I don’t want any of that shit! I told you that. I just want to skate.”
His eyes narrow. “That shit is what allows you to skate for a living. It’s what allows you to travel with your son everywhere so you don’t have to miss a second of him growing up. You think I’m doing this for me? I have money, Josh. I couldn’t care less about any of that.”
“Get off your high horse. I’m the one who fucking earned it!”
“Exactly!” he shouts, his voice echoing in my ears. “You earned it, Josh, and you can’t just throw it away over some girl!”
I step to him. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“This is bullshit,” he murmurs.
“Why are you even here, then?”
“Because as much as you don’t want to believe it right now, I’m your fucking friend.”
“Yeah, well you’re not being my friend right now. You’re being my agent.”
“No. Right now I’m being both.”
I shove his chest. “What the fuck is your point, Chris?”
His jaw sets, but he doesn’t push back. He seems to take a calming breath, or ten, all while the frustration and anger settle in the pit of my stomach. He says, “My point is that if her being here is going to push you off track again, then let me know. If I need to cancel your commitments for the next few weeks, then I’d rather do it now, so I can get us prepared to lose another major sponsor, maybe even drop a couple world ranks like last time.”
“Fuck you.” I don’t wait for a response; I simply open the door and prepare to walk out on him. But I can’t. I don’t get further than a step because Becca’s standing just outside the door, her eyes wide, and her hand raised in a fist. Her mouth opens, closes, and then opens again, and with each second that passes, her tears build, and I know she heard everything. Everything. “Becca,” I say through a sigh.
She drops her gaze and points down the driveway where Chaz’s friends are currently moving toward us.
“Becca,” I say again, and she looks up. Not at me, but at Chris behind me.
“It’s nothing personal,” Chris tells her. “It’s just business, Becca.”
8
—Becca—
My dad spends hundreds of dollars a month on the best speech therapist in St. Louis. He and my therapist were the only people who’d been able to reap the rewards of his hard earned cash. Until I was in Josh’s arms and for a moment, the safety in his touch outweighed my fear, and I gave him a piece of me I’d been saving for a moment worthy of it. And it was. The look on his face was completely worth it. Until Chris showed up and spat my name like I was trash. I was confused, at first, but then I saw Grams’s friends show up and when I went to knock on Josh’s door, everything became clear. A little too clear. I guess the guilt Dawn had pushed me to rid myself of was justified. And, somehow, I had to find a way to spend not only my time here, but the rest of my life, dealing with it. I remind myself that seeing him when he was in St. Louis was on The List, and that it had to be done. Because at some point, or so Dad keeps telling me, I have to put myself first. But at what cost? I did my best to keep my chin up and not let it bother me. Grams’s reaction to her surprise party helped a lot, but the feeling was still there. Still in the back of my mind, in the ache of my chest, in the turning of my stomach, eating away at my thoughts. It wasn’t until she and her friends were clearly drunk on what they called “Jesus Juice” that some of those thoughts faded. It helped that they did everything in their power to tease Josh in ways that had him blushing like I’d only seen when we first got together.
She looks up, a perfect frown on her beautiful mouth, and I force myself to not reach out and run my thumb across her lips. After putting the camera away, she grabs her phone from the back pocket of her denim shorts and starts to type, moving closer so I can read it. Friends?
No single word in the history of unrequited love has ever caused more pain than the word friends. Not that I’d know. I had Nat, and then I had her. I smile. I nod. “Sure.”
Her grin is instant, and for some pathetic reason it causes more pain than that single word. But I remember Robby’s speech and remind myself that it isn’t about me, so I return her smile and throw in another nod, because it’s what I promised I’d do, but in my mind, I’m already picking out the boards I plan to smash the second she leaves. But then she steps closer, and closer again and her arms start to rise and a part of me wants to run, wants to push her away, because I know she’s about to touch me… and when she finally does, her arms around my neck, I feel the burst of life kick in… the exact same moment I feel a part of me die.
Her cheek presses against my chest and my arms go around her waist and I die a little more, and the longer we stand there, my arms wrapped around the only person who’s ever truly seen me, I can feel myself sinking, drowning, begging for air. I force myself to pull away, but she holds me to her, her head lifting and her eyes locked on mine. Her smile’s gone now, the frown back in place, and I get lost in her gaze, a place that holds all my secrets, my fears, my desires. Then she rises to her toes, her mouth against my ear, and her breath warm against my skin. “Thank you,” she whispers.
My eyes widen in shock, my heart… I have no idea what it’s doing, but apparently she finds my reaction amusing because she laughs, or at least her version of a laugh and seeing it gives me the same feeling of life and death. I’m about to speak but my name being called cuts me off. Chris walks up the driveway, his look of shock matching mine from only seconds ago. “Becca.” There’s distaste in the way he says her name and I know why, I just don’t want her to know why. So, I release her quickly and turn to Chris, squaring my shoulders as I move her behind me.
“Thanks for coming,” I tell him.
“It’s no problem. In fact, I’m glad I showed up. Who knows—”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“No, Warden,” he says. “I think we should talk about it now.”
Shaking my head, I narrow my eyes at him. Then I give in to the inevitable and turn to Becca. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
Her bottom lip traps between her teeth, her eyes worried as she looks between Chris and me.
“It’s fine,” I assure her, then face Chris and motion toward my apartment.
The second we’re behind closed doors, he lets me have it. “What the hell are you doing, Warden?” he yells.
“I’m not doing anything! Jesus Christ.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks, his eye roll adding punch to his sarcasm. “I can totally see that.”
“Not here. Not now,” I grind out. “Give me a fucking break!”
“A break? You had a break! You took two weeks off after the shit you pulled in St. Louis.”
My head lowers, my hands at my hips. “So fucking what?”
“So fucking what?” he repeats. “This isn’t a fucking game, Warden. You’re a pro athlete now. You have people paying you big money and those people depend on you—”
“I don’t want any of that shit! I told you that. I just want to skate.”
His eyes narrow. “That shit is what allows you to skate for a living. It’s what allows you to travel with your son everywhere so you don’t have to miss a second of him growing up. You think I’m doing this for me? I have money, Josh. I couldn’t care less about any of that.”
“Get off your high horse. I’m the one who fucking earned it!”
“Exactly!” he shouts, his voice echoing in my ears. “You earned it, Josh, and you can’t just throw it away over some girl!”
I step to him. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“This is bullshit,” he murmurs.
“Why are you even here, then?”
“Because as much as you don’t want to believe it right now, I’m your fucking friend.”
“Yeah, well you’re not being my friend right now. You’re being my agent.”
“No. Right now I’m being both.”
I shove his chest. “What the fuck is your point, Chris?”
His jaw sets, but he doesn’t push back. He seems to take a calming breath, or ten, all while the frustration and anger settle in the pit of my stomach. He says, “My point is that if her being here is going to push you off track again, then let me know. If I need to cancel your commitments for the next few weeks, then I’d rather do it now, so I can get us prepared to lose another major sponsor, maybe even drop a couple world ranks like last time.”
“Fuck you.” I don’t wait for a response; I simply open the door and prepare to walk out on him. But I can’t. I don’t get further than a step because Becca’s standing just outside the door, her eyes wide, and her hand raised in a fist. Her mouth opens, closes, and then opens again, and with each second that passes, her tears build, and I know she heard everything. Everything. “Becca,” I say through a sigh.
She drops her gaze and points down the driveway where Chaz’s friends are currently moving toward us.
“Becca,” I say again, and she looks up. Not at me, but at Chris behind me.
“It’s nothing personal,” Chris tells her. “It’s just business, Becca.”
8
—Becca—
My dad spends hundreds of dollars a month on the best speech therapist in St. Louis. He and my therapist were the only people who’d been able to reap the rewards of his hard earned cash. Until I was in Josh’s arms and for a moment, the safety in his touch outweighed my fear, and I gave him a piece of me I’d been saving for a moment worthy of it. And it was. The look on his face was completely worth it. Until Chris showed up and spat my name like I was trash. I was confused, at first, but then I saw Grams’s friends show up and when I went to knock on Josh’s door, everything became clear. A little too clear. I guess the guilt Dawn had pushed me to rid myself of was justified. And, somehow, I had to find a way to spend not only my time here, but the rest of my life, dealing with it. I remind myself that seeing him when he was in St. Louis was on The List, and that it had to be done. Because at some point, or so Dad keeps telling me, I have to put myself first. But at what cost? I did my best to keep my chin up and not let it bother me. Grams’s reaction to her surprise party helped a lot, but the feeling was still there. Still in the back of my mind, in the ache of my chest, in the turning of my stomach, eating away at my thoughts. It wasn’t until she and her friends were clearly drunk on what they called “Jesus Juice” that some of those thoughts faded. It helped that they did everything in their power to tease Josh in ways that had him blushing like I’d only seen when we first got together.
