21. Vaughn
CHAPTER 21
VAUGHN
I was stoked. Completely out of my mind thrilled I could shove that A straight up my dad's pinched-as-fuck ass. I hadn’t seen Tru all day, and the party was getting ready to start. Why was I so anxious? Her kiss did me dirty in so many ways, and I wanted her to know that it helped. I walked out of that library, and all I could think about was the surprise of her mouth on mine. I was so hyperfocused when I walked into that test that I finished it in half the time.
As much as it irritated me that she’d been right, part of me also knew that I owed her an apology. I also semi forgave her for the hair and short-sheeting. Clever, actually. We’d probably kill each other later in this dirty little war—but she gave me one small moment of accomplishment that I could smear in my dad's face. I was happy. And I wanted to party the shit out of Saturday and well into Sunday.
I checked my phone again.
Nothing.
Whatever. Her loss, right?
The door suddenly swung open. Chad, one of our linebackers built like a brick and corn-fed from Iowa, held up two cases of beer. “Let’s go, bitches!”
Brady elbowed me in the ribs. “He's wearing a tartan?”
“The man is definitely wearing a tartan.”
I couldn’t help my smirk. “The man even Scottish?”
“FREEEEEEDOM!” Chad shouted, lifting his two cases. Oh shit, Rainier beer? Seriously? “SPARTA!"
I choked on my laugh. “Bro’s already three sheets to the wind. He just quoted Braveheart and the three hundred in one sentence. It’s gonna be a good night.”
“The best.” Chad bumped my fist.
What could possibly go wrong?
Three hours later, I learned the answer to that question.
“I take it back. I take it all back.” I drunkenly groaned into my cup. “Chad’s the worst.”
A loud thunk sounded. Someone was so drunk they fell over by getting hit by a ping pong ball. Chad thought it was a good idea to start beer pong early. For the record, it wasn’t.
Wait, wasn’t Chad just standing next to me?
My eyes were so blurry that it was hard to walk in a straight line, let alone think in one. Wait, that wasn't right. People didn’t think in straight lines. Huh, that was funny.
I stumbled through the living room when the door suddenly opened.
It was Tru.
She was dressed in another hot-as-hell dress. I enjoyed the few seconds of looking until some idiot reached for her.
Nope.
Another guy offered her a beer.
Could she at least wear something that didn’t show off her perfect body? Her hair was so glossy I swore I could see my reflection in it. Her dress was white. It was classy, simple, yet so sexy. Parts of the middle of it were see-through but only right below her breasts. The bottom of the dress kissed her knees, and the top was strapless with a bit of a dip between her breasts. Simple and stunning.
Mine.
“Back off!” I roared, or maybe I slurred. I couldn’t really tell.
The guy in the blue—or was it green—shirt held up his hands and walked off while Tru just looked up at me and sighed. “You’re wasted.”
“You’re wasted!” I snapped.
Her eyebrows rose. “Oh? Then what’s the periodic table element for silver.”
I blinked. “We have chemistry.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Stop dressing like that.” I pointed my cup at her. “You look like a snack, which makes guys think they might have a chance at the whole meal.”
Tru let out a slow exhale. “No snacks. No appetizers. No meals. Not even a drink. I’m dry.”
“Nah, you’ve always been wet for me!” I didn’t mean to shout it, but we suddenly had everyone’s attention. “I mean, you know…”
Tru’s face fell. “Vaughan, stop talking.”
“Well, they should know, right? I mean, the history, our sordid past, how you left me, and the sex, oh yeah, the sex, so good. Tell them Tru, remember? Your name is Tru. Always tell the truth, good little…orphan girl.” That last part just slipped out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like, I mean, I’m drunk, Tru?—”
“Hey.” Brady grabbed my arm. “Let’s call it a night, man.”
I shoved him away. “Nah, it’s fine. Tru knows I didn’t mean it. Plus, I know what she looks like naked. We have no secrets, right True?” She did.
I didn’t.
The pain from the inside kept pouring out of my mouth like vomit. “Right?”
Tru started walking toward the stairs. I grabbed her by the arm.
“Let go.” Tears welled in her clear blue eyes. “Please, Vaughan. Please. I’m begging you. Please sober up. Please don’t say anything else. People are watching.”
“Let them watch.” I joked. “You never cared before, right? On the beach?”
I didn’t see it coming. The slap across the face, and what was worse, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she sniffed and slowly climbed the stairs.
Brady cursed next to me. “Fuck man, did you have to do it today of all days?”
I waved him off. “On a Saturday?”
Brady's face fell. “Nah, dude, on her fucking birthday, you ass.”
Her birthday.
Tru hated her birthday.
She never got anything on her birthday and shit.
Shit.
I tripped up the stairs, but the minute I got to her door, it was slammed in my face and locked. The loudest lock, actually, that I’d ever heard in my entire life.
So I sat in front of her door, and after the lights went out, I whispered under my breath, “Happy birthday.”
Then
“Make a wish,” I whispered. “And don’t make it shitty.”
Tru’s smile lit up the night sky. I’d only known her for months, but celebrating with her and enjoying her company felt natural. Things had gotten a bit more complicated after we returned to the city, so I wanted to do something special. I went big and rented out the rooftop restaurant. I hired a band that did old-school fifties jazz—badass, I know, and I made sure every one of her favorite foods was present. Earlier that day, I sent over a dress. I did the full Pretty Woman thing where she was pampered the entire day and didn’t want for anything.
“A wish,” she repeated and stared up at the stars. “When I was in foster care, I used to think it was stupid to wish for something that would never happen, but now I want it. I want to make it.”
I wrapped her up in my arms and rested my chin on her head. “What changed?”
She squeezed my folded arms. “You. You happened. You made me believe it was possible to be happy. You made me realize it's okay to do the most terrifying thing in the world.”
“Skydiving?”
She laughed and then sobered really fast like she was stuck in her own mind. “Hope. You made me hope, Van.”
I froze. The truth and intensity behind that one word sliced me into tiny little pieces, breaking my heart over and over again. I realized at that moment that she didn’t need the special food and she didn’t need the dress. She didn’t give a shit. Why would she? It wasn’t important.
I was.
She was.
It was us.
What she needed was one word and the follow-through behind it.
“Hope.” I squeezed her tighter. “Do you have it now?”
She shuddered beneath my arms almost like she was releasing something, letting go, finally taking down all the shields she’d so carefully constructed over the years. “It’s the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”
My throat all but closed up as we clung to each other and stared at the stars. “Make another wish then, one that I can make come true…not because I’m rich but because"—I was dizzy—no, drunk on it—“I love you.”
She turned in my arms. “Nobody has ever said that to me before.”
Speechless, I had to take a minute to respond, not trusting my voice or the emotions she evoked behind her truth. Dammit, Tru, speaking her truth was one of the most beautiful and tragic things I’d ever had the honor to witness.
“Tragedy,” I finally said. “It’s a fucking tragedy that nobody has taken the time to tell you your own truth. You have worth, Tru. You have something to offer the world. You’re incredible, addicting, and exciting. You are important. Test me. Test my actions and my words. You’re the only truth I’ve ever known.”
Tears cascaded down her cheeks. “I love you so much.”
“Happy birthday, Tru.”