Henry’s room is a constant reminder of something I’ll never have. All of him.
There’s a picture of him and his girlfriend, Callie Banfield, on his nightstand. I flinch and look away. It’s too hard to look at it because every time I do, I imagine my face in place of hers.
My chest tightens. I’m freezing. Soaking. Henry comes up behind me and rubs warmth back into me. He pushes my hair aside and leans close to me. “You’re shivering.”
He makes me shiver, shiver with delight.
“Come on,” he tells me. He grips me by the shoulders and directs me to his adjoining bathroom. “You’ll warm up after a hot shower.”
Water. More water. Clear pellets of liquid refreshment rain down on me. I let some drip into my mouth then I spit it out. I’m in the shower, fully clothed. I watch the dirt as the brown residue washes away. Out of my hair. Off of my clothing and into the drain. It washes away like Henry and the way he washed away my innocence.
I take my clothes off, all but my bra and underwear, and toss them outside the shower. The door opens. Then it closes. I peel back the curtain. Henry has taken my clothes. He’d told me when we arrived he was going to wash them. He thinks I’d have a hard time explaining to my mom how they got so dirty.
Dirty like me.
I know what most people think about girls like me. Home wrecker and whore are two of the names that always sound off in my mind. Thinking of myself as either one of those names doesn’t feel right because what I want people in general to understand is that I am neither one.
Our relationship progressed slowly. First, he’d come over and we’d sit on the porch swing an
d talk. Then he took me to a spot where we’d lay on the hood of his car and watch the stars. Not long after that he gave me my first, real kiss and sometime later, I gave him all of me.
He’d told me about Callie half-way through the summer, but I’d become so obsessed with him and just being with him that I didn’t care. I’d told myself that some part of him was better than no part of him. But some part of him is beginning to break me. I want more. I need more. Because just like Callie, I’m in love with him too.
I touch my face. There’s still a dirty residue, a remnant from when Henry touched my face with his dirty hands. Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. Dirty but beautiful. My heart goes up in flames when I think of that moment. Not even the water raining down on me, cleansing my entire body can put the blaze out.
Music cuts into the soothing sound of the water pouring on top of me. Jimi Hendrix. All Along The Watchtower. Henry is back in his room. The music devours me. I’m caught up in it. Classic rock. I close my eyes and let the sound of the guitar whirl through me. And I’m so deeply into it that I don’t hear the curtain open.
Henry steps into the shower. His hands are on my waist. I’m not even thinking about the way his touch feels. That’s a first. I’m thinking about school tomorrow and if I’ll be able to handle it. I’m thinking about how stupid I am for not ending this, and I’m feeling like an addict who just can’t shake her high. Always craving the drug. Always coming back for more. Henry is my drug. I want to get high off of him.
His palms brush against my stomach and despite the scalding hot water, I’m shivering. One slip of the arms later and he’s embracing me. He’s hot and his body against mine warms me up. Makes me boil. I think I’m sweating in the shower. He grabs my hair, staring down at me and I’ve never felt such a powerful hold over me by another human being.
He captivates me, mind, body, and soul. He numbs my senses. Silences the words on my lips. I’m melting. His free hand slides up around my neck and he cups the side of it. My hands slide up his face. I hold his cheeks in my palms and I cry. I cry hard. Tears flow like a flash flood.
He grazes his fingertips across my face. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, full of emotion. “Please.” He gets on his knees and kisses my tears away.
I’m having a hard time controlling myself and I sob so hard I can barely breathe. “Promise me something,” I say in between the sobs caught in my throat.
“Anything.”
“Promise you’ll never break my heart.”
“I promise,” he swears.
My love for him is deeper than the depths of the ocean. Deeper than the Grand Canyon. Deeper than the depths of emotion.
“Promise you’ll always love me.”
“I promise.”
And in his own way I know he means it.
Chapter 8
“One of the hardest things in life is watching the person you love, love someone else.”~ Author Unknown ~
Half of my face is hidden—shielded by my metal locker door. It’s been painted recently. Tan. The smell of the paint still looms in the confined hallway and the musty scent fills my lungs. I’m trying to be coy as I stare at Henry. He’s standing across the hall at his locker with her—his girlfriend Callie.
He hasn’t acknowledged me at all today.