I take her across the apartment, her hand still in mine, and I guide her into TJ’s bedroom. Luckily, he keeps it tidy, and Eden seemsdesperate to climb into the huge bed in the center of the room; she is already kicking off her shoes. I don’t know why, but I find myself sliding my hands under her thighs and lifting her up again. She wraps her legs around me once more, her arms over my shoulders, her chest pressed to mine. I carry her over to the bed and gently set her back down again. I walk around the bed, fumbling with the sheets, pulling them back for her.
“I’ll go get your water,” I tell her. The silence of the apartment is getting a little awkward now, not because we are uncomfortable, but because we are alone and I still have no idea what I’m doing. I’m just glad it’s me who is looking after her and no one else.
I head back to the living room, grab her glass from the coffee table, then top it back up at the sink. I may have been tipsy earlier, but I am completely sober now. I don’t think Eden would have had a drink since we left Dean’s place, so I’m pretty sure she won’t be getting any more intoxicated than she already is. From this point onward, she can only sober up. “Here,” I say as I walk back into the bedroom, and Eden flinches at the sound of my voice. She has stuck one of her fake eyelashes onto the bedside table, and I bite back laughter as I set the water down next to it. “Water and sleep: the only way to sober up and minimize your hangover as much as possible,” I explain with a laugh. I hope I can lighten the mood a little so that she doesn’t end up hating herself for this tomorrow.
“You should take your own advice sometimes,” she says as I close the curtains, shutting out all of the bright lights from the pier. “Next time you’re drunk, I’m just gonna chant, ‘Water and sleep, water and sleep.’”
I smile at her as I turn back around, shaking my head. God, I really do like this girl. “Get some sleep, Eden,” I say softly. Eden lets out a warm, gentle laugh as she scrambles under the sheets, fluffing up thepillows and pulling the sheets up to her chin. She lies on her back, getting comfortable, and so I head for the door, ready to give her some privacy to sleep off the alcohol, but I end up lingering longer than I mean to. Does she want me to leave, or does she want me to stay? Should I give her some space or should I watch over her? “Are you going back to the party?” she asks, lifting up her head.
“I don’t know,” I admit. I look down at the floor. Tyler Bruce doesn’t really leave parties early. “I mean, Tiffani’s probably looking everywhere for me.”
“Oh,” Eden says, and I can almost hear her heart sinking.
“I’ll let you sleep,” I say as I glance back up at her. I give her a small smile, one that lets her know that I’m here, I’m looking after her, I care about her.
She sinks back down into the pillows and rolls over, hugging the sheets around her. Reluctantly, I leave the room, pulling the door closed behind me. The apartment is quiet and I find myself paralyzed outside the bedroom. I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my forehead against the door, exhaling.
Going back to that party is the cowardly way out. Do I really care about what people think of me? Do I really return to a party just to prove to everyone that I’m there, that I’m happy? I’m stronger than that, I know I am. I don’t need approval from anyone. I don’t need everyone to think that I’m fine.
Fuck Tyler Bruce. I hate that guy. For the first time, I think I may actually like myself better. I like who I am with Eden, but around Eden, I am only beingme. The real me, the me who has all of these secrets and all of these insecurities and all of these ups and downs.
Forget the party. I am not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with Eden, because she matters more to me than what my friends think of me.
I push open the door and step back into the dark bedroom. Eden is already asleep, because she doesn’t even stir as I walk across the room. I sit down on the floor in front of the window, resting my head back against the wall as I watch her. I wish she knew I was here, that I haven’t left. I will sit here and watch her for hours if I need to, just to make sure she is safe.
I think that’s the moment I realize I’m in love with her.
53
Five Years Earlier
Officer Gonzalez doesn’t take me home. He doesn’t know where it is. I won’t tell him. So he has taken me to someplace even more terrifying: the police station downtown. It makes me regret ever agreeing to get in the car with him in the first place.
There’s a phone ringing loudly throughout the office. The air smells of coffee. There are officers drifting back and forth between desks. I am sitting at a row of seats against the back wall, anxiously squeezing the bottle of water that Officer Gonzalez has given me, my gaze darting all over the place, trying to keep tabs on everything. I tried my best. I refused to give them my surname. But one of the lawyers here in the office right now knows my mom and has given away my true identity.
Which means that my parents have now received their second phone call of the day about me. First from Principal Castillo and now from Officer Gonzalez. And if they weren’t happy about getting the phone call from school, then theydefinitelyaren’t going to be happy about answering a phone call from the police. In the space of one day, I have gone entirely off the rails, and even I can’t explain what’s wrong with me. Mom is going to be so disappointed, and Dad is going to be so furious.
“So,” Officer Gonzalez says as he appears again. He sits down next to me with a cup of steaming hot coffee, and he takes a long sip of it. I look sideways at him. “You’re lucky. Your parents didn’t even realize you were missing, so youdidn’tsend them into a spiral of panic for the past hour. They’ll be here any minute.”
I turn my eyes down to the floor. My stomach hurts from how sick I feel. I shouldn’t have stopped by that stupid tree. I should have kept walking. I should have gotten on the bus. I should have really left town.
“Are you alright?” Officer Gonzalez asks when I don’t reply.
And the truth is, I’m really not. But how do I tell him that? I feel so weak, my body is aching, my head is spinning, my sight is blurring with the tears that are threatening to fall. I am so, so scared. I lift my head and turn to look at him. My eyes meet his, and I am begging him to really, truly look at me, to see the fear and the pain in my eyes, to tell me everything is going to be okay, that he’s going to protect me. I want to tell him the truth, but I can’t find the words to explain just how broken I am.
But the truth is in my eyes. I am telling him. I am trying. I am broken, I am in agony, I am scared.
But he doesn’t see it. He doesn’t say anything at all.
I look away, fighting back the tears, tilting my head back down to the floor again. “I’m fine,” I say.
“I’ll keep an eye out for your parents,” Officer Gonzalez says. He gives me a reassuring pat on the back as he stands, then he walks away again, sipping at his coffee, nodding to fellow colleagues as he disappears back out of the office.
I slump back against my seat, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my hands to my face. I flinch from the pain, then quickly push my hands back into my hair instead. I pull on the ends in frustration. I’mso exasperated, so lost. How am I supposed to handle this mess now? Every day, my life seems to spiral more out of control. Every day, I feel more helpless. Every day, I grow weaker.
I just want it all to stop. I want Dad to stop.
I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of protecting him. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay.
