Chapter 12
KELSEY
“Good evening, Hun! You must have been exhausted.” Mom’s voice carries from the kitchen as I come down the stairs.
“Hi.” I cover my yawn as I saunter to the kitchen island, plopping into one of the barstools. My mom is still in her robe, sipping on coffee. I guess she is having a late start today, too.
“Your father said you weren’t home this morning when he left for work.
Is everything alright?” I feel the blood drain from my face as I think about last night.
Hayden and the closet, then the way Ryder’s eyes melted right through me.
How did I allow that to happen? Hayden was an outlet.
A mistake. Now that my mind is clear from the alcohol-induced haze, I can think clearly, and I regret taking advantage of Hayden like that.
“What’s wrong?” My mom asks.
“Hm?” I blink rapidly as I snap out of my thoughts. She sets her mug on the counter and makes her way toward me.
A frown pulls at her beautifully aged face, “Did something happen? You know you can talk to me, right?” She gives a small, sad smile. What’s the point in talking to her? Surely nothing has changed and I refuse to be made to feel ashamed and embarrassed again.
“Yeah, Mom. Promise.” I slap on a sweet smile for added assurance. “Jessie and I had a girls’ night.” It’s not a complete lie.
I need to get out of here and find something to take my mind off Ryder.
My mom pats my knee before going back for her coffee. “Well, it sounds like you had a fun night, Sweetie.” If only she knew. “Are you hungry?”
I swallow thickly, my throat dry from sleeping off the remainder of the hangover. “I’m not really hungry, but do we have orange juice?”
“We do.”
After gulping down the orange juice, I ran upstairs to shower and get cleaned up. I decided to wear a black mini flared skirt, a fitted black halter top, and paired it with a thin gold chain.
As I stand in the mirror looking over my outfit, I feel like it’s missing something.
I know exactly what I need. I make my way over to the vanity, shuffling through my jewelry box, and pull out a pair of gold diamond stud earrings.
After placing them in my ears, I slip on my black leather platform boots with metal studs.
I throw my hair up loosely in a claw clip, then fall backwards on my bed with a bounce.
Jessie still hasn’t responded to my text from earlier. I hope she’s ok. Surely she isn’t that mad about Ryder and me. What if Ryder forced her to end our friendship? No, because he said I’m a part of the family. That’s just my anxiety talking. I type out another text and press send.
Are you okay?
There’s one other person I could text, and they did tell me not to hesitate, so here goes nothing.
Can we talk…in person?
Butterflies go wild in my stomach after hitting send.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my raging nerves.
My brain keeps telling me I’m going to fuck this all up and lose my best friend.
The email from Ryder gave me hope, but what if he changes his mind again?
He so easily pushed me away last night that I can’t trust that he won’t do it again.
I need to keep my walls high, so I’m not crushed when that time does come.
All my life, I begged my parents for a sibling.
Somebody to keep me company, but when that never happened, I had to find other things to keep the boredom at bay.
I ended up getting mixed into the wrong crowd in high school.
Drinking and drugs kept me numb. I’ll never understand how my grades didn’t reflect on my poor decisions.
Depression was my heaviest obstacle to overcome in my teens.
I’ll never forget one of my friends saving my life after I had drunk bleach straight from the bottle before heading to school, or the look on my Mom’s face when I was surrounded by police officers and paramedics in the hallway.
I begged for them to put me in therapy, but my parents said I was fine.
They called me dramatic and said I was seeking attention.
After that, I looked for other ways to escape the numbness—to feel something—anything but the agonizing anger and sadness that consumed me.
My skin took the fall. Any hidden piece of flesh on my body was carved into.
I thought I was hiding it well enough until I stayed at that friend’s house one night, and her mom saw my ankle.
Eight Years Ago…
“Please don’t call them!” I begged with tears rolling down my face.
The last thing I need is more punishment. They don’t care, they never will.
“I’m so sorry, baby, but I have to. It’s infected. They do care, I promise, and they’ll get you help.”
I can still feel the shame and embarrassment from that night and the nights that followed.
At the time, they didn’t seem to care. At least not to me.
They never did get me help; I just found different ways to sate my mind.
Ways they couldn’t find or notice, like the drugs and alcohol.
It wasn’t until I graduated high school that they had a heart-to-heart with me over my mental health, and things got better.
I forgive them. Forgiveness is part of healing, right? At least that’s what they say.
I gave up the habits and dropped the friends.
It was in that moment that I realized I never had a real friend.
The one that “saved” me ended up being my biggest bully, so fuck her.
I never looked back and don’t plan to now.
Pulling up my messages, I see it’s already been twenty minutes since I texted Jessie and Ryder.
Neither messaged back, so fuck it. I hover over Hayden’s contact, contemplating whether I should even ask him to go out tonight.
I’m so bored, and I didn’t get this dressed up for nothing, so fuck it.
I type out my message, hit send, and drop my arms out beside me to wait.
Wanna go out for some drinks? I know a place.
My phone immediately vibrates in my hand, and I nibble my bottom lip as I open the text.
Hayden:
Tell me when. I’ll pick you up.
He insisted on picking me up, even though I told him I’m perfectly capable of driving myself.
Doing one last look over in the mirror, I swipe my finger under my eyes to clean up any smudged eyeliner and apply some dark red lipstick.
Rolling and popping my lips together, I stand and admire myself, as I look like Amy Lee, except my hair is brown, not black, and freckles pepper my cheeks.
The black, leather circle skirt hangs just below my ass, and the oversized band t-shirt is barely tucked in the front of the waistband.
I decided to wear my hair down today, which is rare for me, since I much prefer it up in a messy bun.
My arms wrap around myself in a hug while my teeth clatter from the night breeze as I wait for him at the curb.
Just when I think he’s bailed on me, I hear an engine roaring up the street.
I know it’s him because nobody around this quaint neighborhood is driving anything like that.
Around here, it’s fully electric vehicles or hybrids.
I think I’m the only one still driving something gas-powered.
He pulls up to the edge of the driveway in a cherry red Ferrari.
I have to pick my jaw up off the ground before he notices me gawking.
I fully expected Hayden to drive a lifted or squatted truck or something along those lines, definitely not a Ferrari.
The same question from last night replays in my head: Who the fuck are these people?
The driver’s door opens, and Hayden steps out, walking around the back of the car toward me.
He’s wearing black skinny jeans and a t-shirt that clings to him like a glove.
His eyes devour me, head to toe, as he steps into the driveway in front of me.
A flush heats my skin from my neck to my cheeks under his assessing stare.
My feet shift while I pick at my nails. If he doesn’t say something soon, I’m afraid I’ll run back inside and cancel the night out.
“You look… Beautiful,” He says as he runs his hand down my arm until he reaches my hand. He gently tugs me by the hand, leading me toward the passenger door, not once removing his hungry eyes from mine.
“Thank you.” My mouth is suddenly desert dry, making my voice rough. All I can think about is getting something to drink to relieve it.
Sinking into the soft leather seat, I take a deep, steadying breath. His car smells incredible, like warm amber and cedarwood, mixed with fresh, clean leather.
We speed out of the development, blaring Creed and Breaking Benjamin.
I’m beginning to believe they’re his favorite bands, and I can’t blame him if they are.
I glance at Hayden every so often, keeping my glimpses short, so he doesn’t notice.
He looks so peaceful and free, as if he has not a single care in the world.
A faint smile is permanently painted across his lips as his arm waves through the summer air out of the open window.
His aura makes it impossible for me to keep my eyes off him.
Not in an obsessive way, but in an intrigued way.
His ocean blue eyes, like the prettiest Caribbean blue, and his wavy brown hair.
He’s utterly gorgeous. So is Ryder, but he’s a total contrast to Hayden. They’re like night and day.
Hayden and Ryder have the same tattoo wrapping their necks. Wings. His sleeved arm rests lazily on the steering wheel as his head thumps to the bass of the music.
“The wings…” I begin to ask, but lose my courage before I can finish. I don’t want him to think I’m being invasive. There has to be a meaning for the matching permanent art, but it’s none of my business if he doesn’t want to share.
“What about them?” His head turns to face me briefly before returning to the road.
“Do they mean something?”