Chapter 5
Declan, Present
I pull into the driveway of my house, shutting off the car and leaning my head back against the headrest.
What a clusterfuck of a night. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea. I mean, I do, but now that it’s over, those reasons sound so stupid.
Landon texted me a few minutes after I left Javi, saying that he wasn’t feeling well and made it home safely, so that makes me feel better.
Because I was pretty selfish tonight. I tried to tell myself that I was helping him explore his sexuality, but in reality I just wanted to face my own demons, especially a particular one, and dragged Landon with me.
I get out of my car with a little more force than necessary, slamming the door behind me and walking up the driveway.
Harold and Nancy, and therefore me too, live on a quiet street.
Six or seven big-ass brick houses built on large lots nestled in the middle of some woods.
When I first got here, I had never seen something so grand.
All the lawns are manicured in their own unique way.
Fountains. Flowers. Fancy bushes that are cut into shapes.
All the driveways are filled with luxury cars, and the houses are filled with people who probably make too much money for their own good.
Sometimes seeing it all kind of makes me sick.
I creep into the house, even though I really don’t have to. Harold and Nancy sleep like the dead with their old selves. I say that lovingly, because they’re actually the most present and stable figures I’ve ever had in my life.
My parents were addicts who disappeared pretty quickly after I was born. I was passed around from family member to family member for years, until eventually I ran out of relatives and was put in foster care.
Then it was a seemingly endless rotation of foster families until Harold and Nancy came along.
They’ve just entered their seventies and are some of the funniest people I know—although I don’t always think it’s on purpose.
Harold always tells me, “When you get to be my age, you don’t give two shits about what all these other people think.”
That’s usually followed by Nancy scolding him. “Oh, Harold. Don’t cuss in front of Declan.”
“Nancy. Now, don’t nag me. He’s practically a man.”
It ends with them both scoffing and waving their hands in front of each other. But later in the night, they always seem to end up in the oversized recliner together, arms wrapped around each other while they watch their shows until they doze off and I have to wake them up to go to bed.
So, I guess the bickering is their love language or something.
I lightly step up the stairs and quietly close my bedroom door.
When I first arrived in their house, they led me up to this room, with its formerly blank walls and naked queen mattress, handed me a credit card, and told me to “go nuts.”
It was hard for me to just spend their money at first, but after much of their insistence, I did.
The walls are painted a glittering black, and each corner of the room has a color-changing neon rope light that’s controlled by my phone.
There’s a large desk covered in paper and shoes that I’ve drawn on.
A high-top chair sits in front of it with one of my school blazers thrown over the back.
I chose a plain white bedding so it can absorb whatever color the lights happen to be. Whatever fancies my mood that day.
Tonight, the lights cast a soft purple color all around the room. It instantly calms the shit storm that Javi decided to stir up.
The fucking nerve of him.
“Why did you do it?”
Fucking imbecile. He never fucking knew me. I was lying to myself or hoping, I guess. Hoping that he might be what I wanted him to be.
Speaking of… I venture over to the French doors on the opposite side of the room. They lead out to a tiny balcony on the side of the house. It’s really only big enough to stand there, jutting out maybe three or four feet from the house and slightly wider than the width of the doors.
Opening the doors, I step outside, flicking on the little twinkle lights I have wrapped around the railing. Then I remember what they used to mean, and I quickly turn them off.
I look right at his window, it’s almost directly across from mine. A bit to the left. It’s dark in there. Blinds firmly shut.
But I knew they’d be. He’s not home. Still fucking around at Grant’s party. I don’t see his dumb as fuck muscle car in his driveway either.
I used to think I was so lucky. Being so close to him.
Having a direct line. Turning on those lights on my balcony, knowing he’d come running—hopping over the hedges that separate our houses and doing all his acrobatic shit to get to me.
Climbing on top of our A/C unit to jump and grab onto the edge of the balcony.
Good thing he’s tall as hell or that would never work.
I’m only five foot six. If the roles were reversed, I’d only be able to wave from the ground at him.
The rev of an engine interrupts my memories. But it’s not Javi’s. I know without looking. It’s too much of a purr. Too expensive. Javi’s is loud and aggressive. And stupid.
Swiveling my head to look across the street, I watch as Carter Hayes swings his Audi into his parent’s driveway and then stumbles out of it because he’s drunk and drove anyway like a douche.
He sways around his front yard, stopping to rest his head against a huge maple tree sprouting out of the ground.
What the fuck is he even doing home?
I thought I got to be rid of him when he went away to college. And yet, here he is, still assaulting my fucking eyes with his presence.
He turns his head slowly, looking at my house.
I gasp involuntarily and practically fall back into my room, shutting the doors behind me.
I stand there, heart beating an unsteady, fast rhythm.
Running over to the window on the opposite wall, I peek out of my curtains and look into his yard but don’t see him there anymore.
He probably went inside.
But that fact doesn’t seem to help. The panic continues rising in my chest.
Fuck it. I’m getting out of here.
I throw on a hoodie from my closet and run down the stairs then out the backdoor. Heading for the woods. Going to the familiar. Even if it hasn’t comforted me in a while.
I hear the creek before I see it. That trickle of flowing water tinkling against the sounds of the night. Iris leaves sprout out from the creek bed. No flowers right now. But they’ll be back in the spring.
I wander over to the fallen-down tree log that we both used to sit on.
Talking about all the shitty stuff that happened in our worlds.
Everything that was out of our control. I’ve got my own issues, but it was mostly him talking.
His home life is shit. Mine was too for a long time, but now I actually can’t complain.
So I tried to be there for him like I had always wished someone to be there for me.
What he didn’t know was that every time I came here—every time I had to stare at his handsome profile, watch his curls shine against the moonlight, see his dark brown eyes glisten because of all the bullshit he had to deal with—I fell harder and harder for him.
I didn’t mean to. But if you get to know him, really know him—if he shows you who he is, anyone would. Even a cynical asshole like me.
I thought being here would be soothing. Erase Carter’s dumbass face from my mind. But it just reminds me that the one person who I thought had my back—the one person I let myself feel something for, fucking left me.
I take a deep breath to stop my eyes from prickling. No one deserves my tears. But especially not Javier Morales.