Five
I watched him sing every single day by the creek. We sat under the shade during that summer. Me, with a notepad and pen in each hand, and him, with his guitar in both of his. I watched him create music from scratch, and I hastily scribbled away the lyrics he recited to me. Sometimes they worked, other times they didn’t. Sometimes he’d write an entire song and then crumple up the paper and throw it in the stream.
We argued a lot about it. I didn’t want him to butcher his songs by throwing them away right after they were done. They were pieces of him floating into the stream, never to be realized again. It upset me more than it should have, but it was only because I was passionate about his music, probably more than he was.
“It’s shit,” he told me angrily one day. “They’re not any good. Just because you like me, it doesn’t mean you have to lie about my music.”
“I don’t like you,” I denied, flushing from the realization he read me far too easily than I’d have liked. “You can sing, and you’re being really stupid for throwing away your work like it’s nothing!”
“That’s because it is nothing.”
“One day you’re going to realize how untrue that is. One day, Carter.”
These arguments occurred often.
Sometimes he was so self-destructive, he’d stalk off. I learned after a few times not to chase after him because he’d act withdrawn and impenetrable. Instead, I waited for him to come back to me, which he did every time.
“I’m sorry, Leah,” he’d say contritely. “I don’t mean to walk off like that. I just get so…”
I didn’t prod. I would just stare at him every time he made his apologies, hating the remorseful look on his face.
“You shouldn’t assume I’m lying to you about your music,” I’d tell him. “Even if you think it’s bad. I’m not trying to stroke your ego, Carter.”
“I’ll do better,” he would promise every time. “I’ll try harder.”
We grew obsessed with music. Not just making it but listening to it too. With a part time job working as a shelf stacker, he’d use what he earned to buy CDs and a stereo. When he was burnt out from writing and singing, we’d sit back and listen to the eclectic variety of music he put on.
I got comfortable with Carter. While I still fantasized about his lips on mine almost every minute I was around him, I was capable of looking past that enough to just enjoy his company. I realized very soon that I would never get him in the way I wanted. He saw me as a friend—hell, maybe even a sister—and it gutted me.
It gutted me every time he cut our time together short to see a girl.
For a whole year, I pined for the boy that had stolen my heart with his soft voice and beautiful face. But I did my best to look on the bright side.
Besides Rome, I made a new best friend.
*
2004 15 years old
I pressed my ear against the bedroom door, hoping Russell and Cheryl had finally gone to bed. Lately Russell would open the door at random times and look in at me. I didn’t like it at all. He’d never done this before. Never cared to check in on me no matter the hour in the day. I didn’t know what he was expecting to find, but he was messing up my nighttime ritual of seeing Carter before I went back to my bedroom.
This night Russell had already checked in on me twice before he got drunk and taken Cheryl for a dirty round of sex in the living room. My stomach still roiled after hearing it. It was so obvious Cheryl wanted nothing to do with him, but she clung on to dear life when he finally finished and threw her the drugs that would forever ruin her life.
At this point in my life, I understood everything. I knew enough about their relationship to know Cheryl had never wanted to be married to him. She’d let it slip at times when she was so unbelievably drugged out and alone. She’d get emotional, crying that she had nowhere to go. That he had used her and forced her into the marriage only to cage her into a lifestyle she had grown dependent on.
I didn’t care. I hated her. I hated him. I hated everything about their life and how happy they were to see me rot away.
It was sick, and I was already counting down the years I’d get away. I daydreamed what it would be like to run away with Carter. Maybe when I turned sixteen I’d kiss this place goodbye and move into the city and life would be a happily ever after. Carter would finally take notice of me in the way I still longed for him to, and he’d finally proclaim his love for me, and we’d be the happiest couple in the world.
Having hope in a hopeless situation was all that kept me moving at times.
Hearing Russell’s snores coming from the bedroom, I knew the coast was clear. I quickly threw on a sweatshirt and took my ponytail out. I finger combed through the long dirty blonde strands of my hair in front of my small mirror hung behind the door. I put on my house slippers after that and opened the window. I slipped out into the crispy cold air and hurried across the yard to where Carter’s bedroom was. His blinds were closed, which meant he was either asleep, or he was busying himself with the trashy magazines he’d recently gotten into and didn’t think I knew were tucked under his mattress.
I don’t need to explain how I knew about this.
I already mentioned I was snoopy.
Regardless of what he was doing, I didn’t care. We’d gotten into this habit, of either him knocking on my window, or me inviting myself through his. I was doing this much later than usual, as it was past midnight and I’d never snuck out this late. As I approached his half-cracked window, I froze when I heard the soft sounds of music flowing out.
He never listened to music this late. It was unusual to say the least. Leaning into his window, I found a crack through the blinds and peered in. Instantly, the blood in my body pumped faster and anger spiked through my being.
He was on his bed and a girl was on top of him. They were having a make-out session that could rival all make-out sessions combined. French kissing, his hands roamed her half-naked body.
I felt my stomach plummet. That bed was being marked by some random girl I’d never seen before. It was probably going to smell like her too.
Tears stung my eyes, but I held them back. I wasn’t a crier. That had never been me. I was a tough cookie. I mean, look at my life; you needed thick skin to handle the shit I did.
Breathe, Leah.
Breathe.
And I was breathing, and yet—
Operating on anger, I grabbed his window and slid it up. Without waiting a beat, I quickly climbed through it, shoving aside the blinds and practically breaking them in the process. Their mouths broke free, and the girl’s head turned in my direction, her gorgeous blue eyes popping out as I stood there, panting from anger.
“What the hell?” she squeaked out, immediately jumping off him to grab her shirt. She shoved it against her chest, hiding her giant boobs—boobs that made my average ones seem all the more sad—and gawked at me with horror.
“What is she doing here, Carter?” she hollered.
But Carter didn’t respond. He was sighing and shaking his head, his eyes directed to the ceiling.
Avoiding her now malicious stare, I pointed to the window and growled out harshly, “Get out!”
Her jaw dropped and she looked at Carter for back up. But he was still not saying a word, and it had quickly dawned on her that I was in charge now.
“Do something,” she stressed to him. “Get rid of her!”
He wasn’t going to do that.
I knew my place in his life.
I was far more important than some random girl he’d picked up. I was taking advantage of this, I know, but in my heart he was mine and I wasn’t going to share him, especially in a place that I felt was ours . This bedroom held too many memories for me to ignore. We’d talk for hours until the sun came up, and I was not willing to taint it with some random chick’s touch.
“Are you deaf?” I snapped out, my nostrils flaring as my anger continued to climb. “I said get out!”
She jumped at the spike in my voice and hurriedly threw her shirt on. Her face was red from embarrassment as she slipped her flats on. Angrily, she stood up and looked down at Carter. “You’re an asshole, Carter Matheson!”
Yeah, yeah, we’d heard this how many times before?
Then she was shoving past me to get to the window. She climbed out clumsily and I listened to her footsteps scurrying away. Now that she was gone, I felt a wave of remorse for how cold I’d come across to her. What had come over me? It wasn’t her I was pissed with.
I crossed my arms and turned to him. If I was attempting to look intimidating I was failing spectacularly because Carter was amused. His blue eyes glanced at my face and his mouth spared into a wide grin.
“God, Leah, you are being over the top,” he remarked.
“ I’m being over the top? How could you do this to me? Sneaking girls into our room—”
“It’s my bedroom, Leah –”
“You knew I was coming around!”
He shook his head, disagreeing. “No, I didn’t. It’s after midnight. Since when have you ever shown up this late? I didn’t think you were going to come around, so I called Pomposa up.”
I froze. The hell did he just call that bowling ball chested girl?
“Pomposa?” I snarled out with disgust. “You chose a girl with the name Pomposa over me?”
“I didn’t choose anybody over you.”
“You did with Pomposa.”
He burst out laughing, and the infectious sound already began to warm me up. I swallowed back the smile twitching at my lips. It only took Carter to laugh to make me forget why I was so angry.
He motioned to the bed. “Come on, Angel. Get in.”
“No,” I refused.
“Come on. Don’t make me beg.”
“Would you really beg?”
“For you? Absolutely.”
God, he did things to my heart.
I stood my ground for a measly ten seconds, and then I went over to him and collapsed next to him so that we were shoulder to shoulder. I stared up at the ceiling and shook my head in disbelief.
“Why didn’t you come to my window?” I asked, my voice giving away my disappointment.
“I did,” he answered. “But I heard your uncle moving around. I thought he was going to be up for a while and that you wouldn’t be able to get away.”
“You should have said something. At least then I’d have known you were there. Even if it was something little. I would have told you I was coming.”
He sighed again. His face turned in my direction, and I could feel how hard he was staring at my profile. I kept my eyes pinned to the water-stained ceiling, ignoring the way my heart hiccupped in my chest at his attention.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”
I was too stubborn to let this go. I turned my head to him and stared into his eyes as I retorted, “How would you feel if I brought a boy into my bedroom?”
Without skipping a beat, he replied, “That’s not my business. You can do what you want. I’m your moral support, the shoulder you cry on when the piece of shit breaks your heart.”
I studied him carefully, waiting for signs he was lying in that statement. He appeared amused still, but I thought I could feel his body stiffening beside me. Maybe it was in my head because nothing in his face spoke of the same jealousy that probably showed in mine. I swear I heard a piece of my heart snapping. How many more years of being his best friend would it take for him to look at me any differently?
“Fine,” I whispered to him, turning away before he could see the glossy look in my eyes. “Well, I’m going to tell you never to do that again.”
“Never do what again?”
“You know what. Never bring a girl into this room. You do it one more time and I’m never going to step foot in here again. This is our place. I’m not going to share, Carter. You wanna do the nasty, then do it in a ditch.”
“How am I going to convince a girl to kiss me in a ditch, Leah?”
“Oh, please. You can take her to a laundromat and she’d think it was the most romantic place ever.”
“Are there any laundromats around?”
“There’s one down the road, but you should carry a knife with you when you take her there. Some shady people lurking around.”
“I’ll consider that when I take the next girl there,” he joked.
“See? I can be helpful.”
When he didn’t respond, I glanced at him. He was smiling wistfully, and I would have given an arm and a leg to know what he was thinking. What the hell was putting that smile on his face? Why was he so difficult to read?
It wasn’t fair how well he kept his thoughts to himself. I might have to train myself to do the same thing.
“Is Russell still checking up on you?” he then asked, that smile morphing into a frown.
“Yeah,” I answered. “He checked up on me twice tonight. I don’t know what his problem is.”
“He knows you’ve been seeing me. I bet you he’s trying to catch you in the act. Be careful with him. I don’t trust him at all.”
“I don’t trust him either, but he’s never been all that bad to me.”
“Never underestimate what certain people are capable of. If he’s not good to anybody else, it’s only a matter of time he won’t be good to you. Just keep an eye on what’s happening around you and let me know if anything ever happens. I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
He was being extremely clear about this, and I nodded my head immediately to cool off whatever anger was brimming at the surface in him regarding my uncle. It was like he knew something I didn’t, and I would have asked if I had a chance at getting a straight answer. But Carter would have told me by now if he wanted me to know.
“Good,” he muttered under his breath.
We’d lain there for a while in silence. It was never uncomfortable. His anger faded away quickly, and he was grabbing at my hand now and squeezing each finger. It was something we’d been doing for years, and it felt damn good.
I stared at him as he did it. His face was relaxed, his lips curling just a tad at the end. He was so beautiful to me, but I was still hurt at what I witnessed.
“Did you sing to her ?” I wondered out loud as he squeezed my middle finger.
“Did I look like I was singing to her?” he responded, chuckling.
I frowned. “You were kissing the hell out of her.”
“Absolutely. Can’t blame me.”
I shut my eyes briefly. Why were guys so detached? How could they kiss a girl and toss them aside? I couldn’t understand it.
“Don’t read too much into it,” he then went on to say. “She’s not that good at it. I was pretty disappointed if I’m going to be honest.”
“How could someone not be good at kissing?”
He shrugged, dropping my hand to the side. “Some people don’t move their lips and expect the other person to do all the work.”
Huh. I never thought of that.
“What does kissing feel like?” I then asked him, curiously. “I heard girls at school say kissing an apple is like the same thing.” And I was pretty sure I was one of the very few fifteen-year-old girls left that hadn’t made out with a guy before.
“Kissing an apple is not the same thing,” he answered swiftly, holding back another round of laughter. “If we’re going to use fruits to compare the feeling—which is dumb as shit—then it’s more like kissing a mashed-up banana.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “So… gooey.”
Now he really did laugh—so hard, in fact, he was wheezing. “Oh, fuck, Leah. Holy hell, you make me laugh.”
“Did Pomposa make you laugh too?”
He turned on his side so that he was facing me, his mouth formed into a wide grin. His face was a little red from all that laughter—because apparently my curious mind is that hilarious—and whispered to me, “No girl has ever made me laugh except you.”
And then he did something strange. He took hold of my chin with his hand and turned my face to him. My heart sped up at the random touch. He stared into my eyes for a while longer, searching for something with that unreadable look on his face. Then his fingers left my chin, sliding up my cheek to brush a few strands of hair behind my ear.
When he eventually dropped his hand, his eyes never left mine. He did this at times. Just looked at me with a weird thoughtful expression, and then he looked away like nothing happened, returning to his normal, cocky self.
God, he wasn’t playing fair.
Just when I tried to live with knowing nothing was ever going to happen, he did this. I wondered if he wanted to keep me keen. The cocky bastard had it in him.
I stared at his lips and felt my chest stir. Right then I wanted him to kiss me. To remove my curiosity once and for all so I knew just wonderful mashed-banana-feeling kisses could be. But in the dim light, with the stomach-churning music still playing in the background, I saw a bit of glitter on his bottom lip. He’d just ravaged a girl’s mouth minutes ago. I didn’t want that mouth on mine. So, I swallowed hard and turned away, focusing back on a random spot.
“So, you couldn’t bring a Mindy in here for your last time?” I muttered out playfully. “Or a Christina? Or a Jennifer? It had to be Pomposa? That’s like me taking home a guy named Hannelore.”
He laughed again. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you.”
He pursed his lips and pinned his enthralling eyes on mine. We stared at each other for several moments. I hardly breathed the entire time.
“You smell like her, you know,” I muttered, trying to shift this strange atmosphere into a safe one. “Like bubble gum and girly-ness. Is that what you like?”
“She was good for passing the time.”
“Passing the time? You really are an asshole, Carter.”
He shrugged. He didn’t care. I was pretty much considering he didn’t care about anything in this life if he hadn’t been so good to me.
I rolled to my side, facing him, and closed my eyes. There was no point talking about this anymore. I didn’t want to know about his near sexcapade with Pompoodle. I relaxed into the mattress and began dozing when his voice rang out.
“Nobody’s ever really kissed you?”
“No,” I said, wondering why he was suddenly so curious. “Why would I lie about that?”
“Just thought you would have by now and kept it to yourself. I’m not always around you.”
I laughed in disbelief. “I’m not necessarily popular at school, Carter. Thought you knew that by now. The guys aren’t crawling through glass for me like they are over those stick-thin bitches that talk behind my back.”
“They would be if you went out. How about actually coming out to the parties I go to then? I invite you how many times and you keep saying no?”
“I’m not going to be around people that hate me.”
“If anyone said something to you, I’d bust their fucking face up, you know that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Solving every issue with violence isn’t really the right way to go about it.”
“But ignoring them is? Admit that you just don’t want to go. You’d rather spend that time with Rome.” He said Rome’s name on a sneer.
“Rome’s my best friend.”
“I thought I was your best friend,” he retorted irritably.
“You are.”
He didn’t respond for some time, and when he did, it was a lot calmer. “But you don’t have feelings for Rome, do you? He’s a weird guy. I personally wouldn’t get it if you do.”
I was completely taken aback. Carter had never taken an interest in my friendship with Rome. I didn’t answer him, and I knew that would just make him even more curious. I wanted him to sweat about it just a little bit. I was almost convinced right then and there that he was jealous. Hope emerged in my heart as I considered that possibility.
“He might be your first kiss, you know,” Carter carried on. “And if he hurts you, you don’t want to look back at your first kiss and regret it.”
“Not really,” I replied, knowingly winding him up. “He could be really good at it. He actually might be the best, and if he is the best then maybe I won’t care if he hurts me later on.”
The vein at the base of his neck twitched as he tensed his jaw. In hindsight, looking back at this moment, I regret taking great joy in watching him lose it. I suppose I was desperate to feel cared about, and I was willing to take it even if it was in a negative manner.
“So you don’t care that your first kiss might belong to a complete asshole that might ruin your trust later on,” he stated. “You only care about what it’ll feel like.”
Oh, my God, he really is jealous.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” I replied, fighting to hide my amusement. “You’re trying to tell me to pick someone neutral to have my first kiss with. In a roundabout way, you want to be the one to kiss me first.”
Immediately he scoffed. “I don’t want to kiss you, Leah. You’re delusional.”
“Don’t deny it. Why else would you pretty much say to pick someone I won’t regret it with?”
“I didn’t mean me .”
“Fine, then I’ll just kiss Rome.”
He gritted his teeth, huffing out, “You want to kiss Rome, then go and kiss Rome.”
“Okay then, I will. I bet he won’t have glitter on his lips when I do it too.”
He stilled and brought his hand to his mouth, wiping it. When he looked down at his hand, his face darkened. He got out of bed after that. Grabbing a towel from the dresser, he turned the corny music off and left the room without a word.
He didn’t come back until fifteen minutes later in nothing but his boxers, water dripping from his hair. He slammed the door shut and I tensed a little, waiting for his father to bark out from somewhere to keep it down. The man was probably passed out though, per usual. I was on my back, watching Carter closely as he walked to the window, shutting it hard. Then he peered through the blinds, seemingly lost in thought.
I’d clearly ruined the mood. I was kind of regretting it by that point. I didn’t want him to be angry at me, but there really wasn’t a reason for him to be. I’d technically done nothing wrong, plus it wasn’t all that unusual for him to be shitty with me. We had our ups and downs. Sometimes we’d go through silent treatments for days just winding each other up, until one of us cracked and came crawling back. It was usually him, and I was proud of the tally I’d kept score of.
He turned then and stood with his back to the window, facing me. My heart skipped a beat at the way he was looking at me. He crossed his arms and just stared, and once again I couldn’t read him.
I tried to act normal. I really should have just got up and left when he was out. Maybe he had expected me to be gone when he returned. But I didn’t want to go. Despite the awkward turn of events, I still wanted to be around him. I picked at my lip with my teeth, trying not to redden by how hard he was gawking at me.
When he pushed off from the window and headed for the bed, my body tensed. His eyes still hadn’t left mine, and they were growing darker the closer he got to me. The mattress shifted from beneath his weight, and all breath left me in a rush when he crawled in my direction. I was absolutely gob smacked the second his body enveloped mine. He had his elbows propped up on either side of my head. Every bit of me felt jittery and panicked because there was no way I was going to pull this off without giving away how nervous he made me feel.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked in a low voice, his face barely a foot away from mine.
Water drops fell from the tips of his hair, landing over my throat and collarbone. The drops felt cold sliding across my skin, but I was perfectly aware I was shaking because of him.
Was I dreaming?
Shit, this was just a dream.
Of course it was.
One does not climb out of a doomed friendship status this easily.
“Um.” My mouth was dry. I didn’t need to talk. This was my dream, after all. He didn’t need to hear actual words.
“Um what?” His lips pulled up into a smirk, and I remember looking at them and thinking how soft they looked. I was so close I could see every freckle on his face, and suddenly I wondered how I could dream up parts of him I hadn’t even noticed before.
No, this was reality.
Shit.
And I’d laid there for who knows how long saying things like “Um” while breathing heavily. So, I stopped breathing heavily. He didn’t need to be on top of an oxygen thief.
“Do you want me to put my lips on yours?” he continued to ask.
“Why would I want you to do that?” I found it in me to ask. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding in my chest. I’d ended up curling my hands into the sheets to dispel some of the nerves and it wasn’t working.
“Because you want to know how it feels,” he answered casually, like this was nothing. Like it wasn’t everything to me.
I hated him a little for that.
“I don’t want to kiss you,” I lied to him. “You were just kissing another girl.”
“I washed my mouth and brushed my teeth.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
He nodded confidently. “Yes, it does.”
He was right. I hated him a little more.
“I’ll make it good,” he promised. “And it’ll stay between friends. Just friends. It won’t ruin anything or hurt anyone. Right?”
I nodded slightly. I was such a liar. Not only to him, but to myself. I was willing to have him any way I could get him. I should have known this was going to open the door to something painful. As if I wasn’t pained already.
“So answer then,” he drawled out slowly. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
“Yes.”
He seemed pleased by that. He looked down at my lips and licked his own. My heart felt full when I closed my eyes and waited for his mouth to touch mine. The anticipation built little by little. I felt his breaths against my face and more drops of water over my cheeks as he closed the gap between us. His lips briefly skimmed over mine, heightening my senses. Slowly he kissed me. Light and soft. I parted my mouth and kissed him back, savouring his soft lips until he pressed them harder against mine.
I felt warmth spread from the top of my head down to my toes. It felt deliciously good. Better than I could have expected. It felt like a rush had come over me, and I was fighting everything inside of me that was pushing to wrap my arms around him. Looking back now, I know he kept it tame. There was no tongue like there was with Pomposaraus. There was no other part of each other we were touching. Carter had kept it strangely platonic yet heated all at once, moving firmly yet softly, giving attention to my lower lip before ascending to my upper.
When he pulled away from my mouth, he swiftly rolled to his side of the bed before I even opened my eyes. That spoke volumes. Here I was, achieving a milestone in my pathetic little existence, enjoying my first ever kiss with the only boy I wanted to do it with, and there Carter was, giving it to me out of some eager need to fulfil his ego. He didn’t want it. He didn’t care for it like I did. I felt empty right then and there. I sneakily glanced at him, unsure of what to do. He was staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression, meanwhile I was flustered and panting.
What should I say?
What was he going to say?
Was that all he was willing to give me? Because I was already longing for another taste of his mouth, and I may have pleaded with my eyes for him to do that again. But he wasn’t looking. Not once.
What was wrong with me?
“Good night, Leah,” he then said casually.
“Good night,” I whispered half-heartedly, my heart torn straight out of my chest.
And just like that, everything was back to normal again.
The kiss was forgotten. Our days resumed. And for the next couple years, I watched from afar the countless girls that came and went, brief interruptions in our best friend paradigm that would have the masses face palming at once. Rome would tell me I was an idiot, and I would agree.
At least I was an idiot on purpose.