Chapter 12
The rest of the day dragged on. Marco had texted me and said that they were going to see the headwaters of the Mississippi. He promised to take some pictures for me, but I told him that he didn't have to since Mom and Dad had told us that we would probably go one of these days.
I opened the freezer and stared at my shake. I was torn between wanting to try it again and wanting to save my mouth the trouble.
I heard voices coming from the window behind me above the sink. It sounded like Eren and Mikasa. An evil idea came to mind, and I grinned.
I snatched the shake in my hands and gathered some of the ice cream on it. I stuck it in my mouth just as they walked in the door.
"Eren, all I'm saying is, you didn't have to do that to her."
He glared at her. "Yes, I did!"
"What happened?" I asked, pretending that hell hadn't frozen over in my mouth.
"He started getting mad at that girl Sasha for trying to eat our sand castle. It was shaped like an ice cream cone."
I started laughing. Ice cream almost flew up my nose.
"Quit laughing!" Eren growled. When I laughed harder, he snatched my shake from my hands and started eating it as fast as he could. I was surprised that he didn't notice I wasn't pissed off.
"Eren!" Mikasa chastised. "Stop being--"
"No, no, Mikasa," I told her. "He's fine."
When the shake was halfway gone, he stopped and looked up at me. "Hey, Jean. What flav--"
His mouth caught fire.
His eyes grew super wide. "Oh my God."
"Take another bite and it'll cool off," I sang.
He immediately did. It wasn't long before the coolness of the ice cream itself wore off, and he had to take another bite.
Mikasa looked between the two of us. It actually looked like she was shaking her head. "What'd you do to it, Jean?" Her voice was amused, not accusing. It was a good thing that Eren had had it instead of her. It it'd been her, I would've received a death glare and kick to the balls. Also, hot stuff barely fazed her.
"Nothing. Just got a fire and ice at the lodge."
"Jean!" Eren breathed, still sucking in the ice cream. "Make it stop!"
"Hm..." I tapped my chin. "No, I'm good."
"Please. I'm begging you."
"I think I'll pass."
"I will do anything!"
"Anything?" I was sure my face was that of pure evil. What could I say? I liked tormenting the kid. Especially since he had such a bad temper. The only thing that could make this better was if Dad was here with his spray bottle.
"Eren, no," Mikasa said.
"Anything," he told me, ignoring her.
I shrugged. "Okay. Neither of you saw me leave."
"What?" His face was torn between almost crying and confusion. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
"I wanna do something tonight, and if you two see me and tell, I'll be in trouble."
"I don't agree to this." Mikasa furrowed her eyebrows in my direction and crossed her arms over her chest.
I shrugged. "Then Eren doesn't get the cure. And let me tell you, it burns for quite a while."
Eren gave her a crazed look. "Please."
She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine."
Eren looked to me.
"Okay, okay." I turned around and grabbed a red solo cup from the counter before opening the fridge. I pulled out the milk and filled the cup almost all the way. I put the milk back and closed the fridge. "Here."
Eren put the other cup on the counter and snatched the red cup from my hands. The relief was evident on his face when he started drinking. His eyes even rolled back in his head. What a baby.
Mikasa rolled her eyes again. "Boys."
"Thanks for your cooperation!" I said, smiling as I went up the stairs.
I could hear Mikasa reprimanding Eren until I put my earbuds in. The action made me think if what had happened last night, and I decided that when he came upstairs, I would not take my earbuds out, even if the cabin was on fire.
* * *
I read until 15 before I had to leave. Well, actually I just started at the clock most of the time. I was still dressed, so I didn't have to worry about being caught. I pulled on a sweatshirt I had brought before going down the stairs, avoiding the platform and top step because they were really squeaky.
I picked up my shoes and started to get the door open. It was one of those doors that you had to yank on to get open, so it was no easy task. Unfortunately, I tapped the wall when I opened it. Connie wasn't the one I was worried about hearing the door. It wasn't Dad either, surprisingly. Actually it was Mom. She was a really light sleeper. Maybe it was the whole gotta-put-my-kid-back-to-sleep-again thing, and it just never went away. Whatever the case, I was glad that she didn't wake up.
The screen door was kind of a bitch too. I had to hold it the whole time and make it close really slowly, so it wouldn't make any noise at all. It literally sucked.
I checked my phone. I had just over five minutes until midnight. I stepped off the porch as quietly as I could and didn't put my shoes on until I got to the highway.
It would be really creepy to see a guy sneaking past your window right now, I thought. I hoped the cops didn't get called on me...
Marco was already sitting on the beach when I got there. "Sorry for being late," I said.
He smiled, but it seemed somewhat strained. "That's no problem."
I grabbed one of his cold hands and pulled it to my chest, lacing my fingers with his. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."
He shook his head. "No, I'm already out here anyway. I might as well enjoy it. Besides," his smile seemed more genuine, "I have you with me."
My breath caught in my throat. I pulled away and rubbed the back of my neck nervously, hoping he didn't notice my now fucked up breathing patterns. I cleared my throat. "Come on."
We made our way to the dock that cabins 28, 16, and 8 shared. I helped Marco into the boat, and we both unhooked a rope from both ends. There were no waves, so rowing would be easy.
I picked up the oars and slid the bars into the slots on the inner sides of the boat (A/N: Yeah, that isn't a very good description. Basically you put the short bars in the holes, so you can move the oars in the circular motion. Think flexible teeter totter).
Marco and I pushed off the dock before I put the oars in the water. Rowing was loud but surprisingly easy. There were no currents working against me that I knew of, and I made it a fair distance out before I knew it. "Is here good?" I asked.
Marco nodded. "Mm hm."
I turned around and let the anchor down, jerking the rope to the side into the gear that stopped it when it was at the bottom.
Marco was staring at me when I turned around. He seemed to shrink when I saw him. I could hardly see his face at all in the dark, but I swear to God I could feel him blush. "What?" I asked, amused.
He shook his head and rubbed his arms. "N-nothing." I noticed that he was shivering.
I tugged my sweatshirt up and over my head before offering it to him. He stared at it as if he were debating whether or not he should take it. A couple moments later, he tentatively reached forward and grabbed it. He slipped it on, and I could hear his contented sigh. It was a little big on him. I thought that was weird since he was the one that was actually in shape out of the two of us.
"Thank you," he said.
I nodded but remembered that he probably couldn't see it, so I said, "Of course."
"I didn't know that you were into astronomy."
"Um, actually..." I laughed sheepishly. "I'm not. I do like to look at the stars, and there's usually too much light pollution at home, but it isn't what I would call a hobby." Pause. "Actually, I just thought that it would be kind of, I don't know... Romantic?" Wow, was I lame or what?
He was silent, and it put me on edge. I kind of expected him to make fun of me for being so cheesy, but he pointed up instead. "See those stars right there on the horizon that look like a w?"
I squinted and saw where he was pointing. "Yeah."
"That's Cassiopeia."
"Gee, Marco, I didn't know that you were into astronomy."
He laughed. "I'm actually not. I just know that one from a STEM program that I went to one summer."
It was quiet for another couple minutes before he stood up and sat right next to me. We both seemed to be casually ignoring our closeness. Our arms brushed, and he leaned in closer. I reached around him and put my hand on his arm gently, so he could push me away if he wanted to. He didn't. In fact, he sighed and settled into me. "You're warm," he commented.
I noticed that he was also warm. He smelled good too, like cinnamon or something, and my nose was in his hair. He didn't seem to mind though because he put his head on my shoulder. I laced my fingers with his and set them on both of our knees. I kissed the top of his head softly and rested the side of my head on his.
We sat like that for what felt like forever. He finally lifted his head from my shoulder and turned his head to face me. I could see his face now from how close he was, but it was still dark enough that I couldn't see his freckles.
"Jean, I..." He swallowed heavily and leaned forward very suddenly, so our lips met. I was surprised, especially since he was the one kissing me. I haven't known him for very long, but even I knew that making the first move was big for him.
I slowly put my arms around him, giving him plenty of opportunities to push me away if he wanted to stop, but he didn't. He reached up and slipped his hands around my neck. One of my hands slid up into his hair and wound it around my fingers the best I could. It was really soft.
We broke apart, and I rested my forehead against his. We were both breathing heavier than normal. "Was--was that okay? I mean, I haven't-- I don't know--"
I cut him off with two quick kisses. "It was perfect."
I could tell he started blushing from the way his face heated up under my fingertips. "Really?"
I kissed him on his cheek. "Really."
Silence. "Jean?"
"Hm?"
"Do you actually like me or are you with me for some other reason?"
I pulled back. "Wait, what?"
He slouched and crossed his arms. "I don't know." He shrugged. "Any other time I've dated somebody it was always because they felt sorry for me. Because of what happened to me. Also, I don't think you've dated a guy before." He shrugged again. "I just don't want to be a vacation experiment or another pity party."
All I could do was look at him. The pain was evident in his voice, and it grated at me. His past relationships must've sucked to have been out of pity.
My heart felt heavy, but my mind was totally pissed. First of all, how could somebody do that to him? How shallow could you be to not be able to see how much of an amazing person he was? A person isn't just their problem. They have likes and a favorite song and a favorite shirt.
Second, how could he really think that I was one of those shallow people?
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
He looked up at me, and his face was sad. "What?"
"Do you really think that I would go out with somebody because I feel sorry for them? Because that's really low. And this may be new to me, but I wouldn't have have kissed you earlier today if I hadn't seen you as somebody that I wanted to be with."
"What about those other people you said you kinda dated? Why didn't you stay with them?" He asked, but it was really quiet, as if he thought that I'd yell at him or something.
I sighed. "This is gonna sound weird, but they only liked me for my stereotype."
He sniffed and looked up at me through his lashes. "What stereotype is that?"
I rubbed the back of my neck, knowing that it would sound stupid when it came out. "Like the 'bad boy.'" I used air quotation marks even though he probably couldn't see them in the dark.
Pause. "Huh?"
"I know I don't really seem like it now because I haven't ever talked to anybody here like I do to the people at school, and that's because I figured that it was time for... a break from being somebody else. I don't normally talk to many people at school, and I'm not into art or band or sports even though the track coach had been trying to get me to join since he saw my mile time in Freshman year. I haven't done drugs or anything besides the one cigarette I tried and hated in tenth grade. I'm saving up to buy a motorcycle someday, and I even have this one black leather jacket that I wear during the winter because of how comfy it feels, and, surprisingly, it keeps me warm enough. Even though all of that is me, it feels like it's me only because I want it to be. Does that make sense?"
He nodded.
"Anyway, the only three times I've been approached, it was only to get laid. There was one other person that came up to me, and she was okay at first, but in the end, the result was the same.
"And that's why I would never play with somebody. I know that it hurts."
He was quiet for a while before he said, "Oh. I'm sorry."
I drummed my fingers on my knees. "Do you still feel like an experiment or pitied by me?"
I kept looking at him until he finally looked me in the eyes. "No," he said softly.
I inhaled and chewed my lip. "Who hurt you?"
He looked up sharply. His face was surprised. Bingo. "What do you mean?"
"Something had to have happened to make you so insecure."
"So what if there is?" he asked in a somewhat defensive voice.
I covered his hand with my own between us on the seat and leaned in close. "I want to chase away your worries. You don't have to tell me now if you don't want to, but I'll listen to you."
He seemed to be debating before he slumped. I used the opportunity to pull him against me again. He didn't fight me, and I was relieved.
"It was in the middle of my Freshman year when I met him." My breath caught at the sound of his voice--it was devoid of all emotion. "He was a Freshman in college at the time. We both ran into each other at a downtown restaurant. We started talking--or rather, he talked to me since I don't normally talk to people I meet on the streets. He was really nice and became a good friend of mine. A month or two later he ended up kissing me. I wasn't sure of what quite happened after that except that I really started liking him. A lot. I told him that, and he said he liked me back, and I don't know. I wasn't sure if we were going out or what. All I knew was that he got upset when I talked to anybody else that appeared to like me at all.
"In March, I went on campus to bring him coffee one Saturday morning to surprise him, and I saw him with some other girl."
My chest started hurting. I squeezed his shoulders and planted another kiss on his forehead. "You don't have to go on if you don't want to."
He shook his head. "No. No, I want to." He took a deep breath.
"I ignored all calls and texts from him after that. I tried to get him out of my life for good, but then I made the stupid mistake of going back to that restaurant downtown that we'd frequented. He convinced me to stay. He... He told me that he was sorry for playing with me." He laughed bitterly. I hated the sound. "But he also told me that he was never serious with me. His girlfriend knew about me. Said it was fine because he told her that he wanted to see what being with a guy was like."
He sniffed, and his voice sounded thick. "I never saw him again after that day, but it took me a long time to finally stop feeling sad over it. I don't even think that I am over it." His body started shaking.
I held him tighter. "Cry if you need to. I'll be right here."
He turned into me and did just that. He didn't make very much noise, but that didn't make it any less painful to watch. I just held him and rocked us back and forth.
I pulled away after a while and cradled his face in my hands, wiping tears away with my thumbs. "We're both a little fucked up," I said. He laughed a bit at my crassness. "And that's okay. Because maybe it's better that we're like that. You can be the gentleness that I obviously need, and I can, I don't know, make sure that shit like that doesn't happen to you ever again. And maybe in time we can both heal each other." I wiped at his eyes again. "So just... stop crying. Please. You're so happy that I'm about to cry too just watching you."
He placed his hands over mine and turned to kiss the inside of one of my palms. "Okay."
It was such a simple anticlimactic answer, but it filled me with more emotions that I could contain. I leaned forward and captured his lips with mine again.
* * *
Second update of the night. Yay! I tried to put some, uh, action in it while building more of a relationship, and that was what I got. I honestly almost started crying when Marco was telling his story. Like, I'm tearing up as I'm writing this.
I'll try to update tomorrow since I'll be doing nothing all day it my mom's house. If I don't tomorrow, I should have it done by the time I go to work the concessions on Friday.
Also, sorry if the chapter is longer than normal. Sometimes I just get a bit carried away...
Thanks for reading so far!
--Shelby