The Library Agreement

15

The sun sinks lower and lower towards the lake as Hailey lays out our towels on the gray-tinted sand, just close enough so the water laps up onto the shore, just inches away from our feet. She finds a comfortable spot and reclines on her elbows, smiling up at the sky, looking out onto the smooth surface of Lake Busbee.

"We made it," she breathes. "We actually made it."

"And I thought we were going to have to watch the sunset from the parking lot," I say jokingly, and she laughs loudly.

"I know, right?! I don't know what I would've done if April didn't let us through." She runs a hand over her face. "Ugh, I don't even want to think about it."

"You're right, though," I say, after a few beats of silence. "It really is beautiful."

"South Carolina's own little ocean," she jokes, and I nod, grinning.

"Thank you for coming, Charlie. For picking me up, and driving, and helping me get us in here." Hailey says, and I turn my face from the sunset to look at her. She keeps her eyes fixated on the sky, but I can hear the emotion bubbling in her throat. "It's been a long time since I've come here, and I just—"

She seems to choke up a little, and I instinctively grab her hand, running my thumb over the ridge of her palm.

"I just didn't want to come here alone." She whispers, and I shift myself so that my towel is closer to hers—our noses could touch if I just leaned in a little closer.

"What happened the last time you came here, Hailey?"

"I—" she says, and then takes a shuddering breath. "I don't want to ruin this for you. I don't want to ruin the moment by telling you."

"It won't ruin anything." I say, softly. "In fact, it might make things better. It gives you a second chance, right? A chance to do it right this time."

She finally turns her head to look over at me, and I smile reassuringly. At this, she nods, gulping.

"Okay." She breathes.

________

It was two years ago.

Two whole years.

Honestly, I thought I'd be over it by now.

But I'm not. It still haunts me. Tails me like a shadow.

It was the night I stopped being brave.

I had come to Busbee with a group of friends—well, rather, Parker and his friends. There were five of them in total. Five of them, and only one of me. I had been a little antsy about going, but Parker had kissed me and reassured me that it was all going to be okay, and that he would have me home by curfew.

So I went.

At first, the entire thing was harmless. Parker and his buddies had a few beers, and my parents had taught me to be a responsible driver, so I didn't have one—figuring I'd be the one driving home that night. I didn't mind. It was fun. There was music playing in the background, and the sun had just set, and everything suddenly seemed so much more fun.

A few hours into the party, Parker's friends called up some girls, and they came, too. I was somewhat glad that I wasn't the only female in the group anymore, so I accepted the notion wholeheartedly.

Three carfuls of people later, things began to get a little out of control.

Parker and his friends had more to drink, the music was turned up louder, the girls had no interest in anything but flirting incessantly with the guys. Soon, I was feeling pretty uncomfortable about the whole situation, so I kept my distance. Curfew was coming closer and closer—there was no way we'd make it back in time.

It took all the courage I could muster, but I had to ask Parker if we could go home.

So I walked up to where I had last seen him, timidly at first, but then the crowd thickened around where he sat. I had to push and shove through the throngs of people, fighting just to get through to my boyfriend. It took a solid few minutes just to make my way to the front of the sea of people.

"Parker—" I said, loudly, but stopped short just as I realized what I was seeing.

It was Parker, alright. Parker and some other girl, tangled up with him like a pretzel. She was kissing him—hard, passionately, feverishly kissing him—something that I would never have had the courage to do. I wasn't that great of a kisser, but he always told me that he didn't mind, that it didn't matter, that our relationship was "more than that".

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't even register it.

I was just standing there, my jaw unhinged, disbelief and horror crashing into me like a tidal wave.

Then, one of Parker's friends turned around and spotted me. He hollered out to Parker, announcing my arrival at the scene. My boyfriend broke away from his previous engagement, confused and somewhat dazed, his hair rumpled up on one side.

I just stood there, staring at him, feeling as though I were about to be sick.

Parker's gaze flew to the girl next to him, back to me, and then back to the girl next to him. I expected him to apologize, to say that he didn't mean it—but, instead, his gaze hardened. A hint of a sneer played across his face.

"Who's that?" He asked, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

Suddenly, everyone was laughing, laughing despite the fact that I had just been rejected in the cruelest way possible. I fought back tears as I ran down the beach, my feet slipping and squelching in the wet sand as I tried desperately to recollect my belongings from the shore.

It took about ten seconds of running before I realized that I was being chased.

I turned, shocked, watching a throng of drunken teenagers hot on my tail, yelling my name, smashing bottles in their wake.

I wasn't sure what to do. Were they trying to get me back to the party? Were they trying to tell me that Parker was sorry?

What was going on?

But my assumptions had been wrong. So very wrong.

Because one of Parker's big, burly friends tackled me to the ground, laughing as I struggled under his weight. When I was able to slip out of his grasp, one of the sorority girls tripped me, giggling as I fell flat on my face again. Confused and hurt and stinging from the glass that had penetrated my skin when I fell, I began to cry harder.

They only took that as an oppritunity.

Soon, I was being carried by five pairs of hands, lifted off the ground and being taken away. I kicked and screamed and bit, trying to do anything I could to escape, but nothing worked. It was dark; I couldn't see where I was or what they were doing. All I could hear was the laughter. The cruel, incessant laughter.

And then, there was a voice. Not just a voice. Parker's voice, tickling my ear.

"Hold your breath, sweetheart."

And suddenly I was weightless, flying through the air as a scream ripped itself from my lungs, and I was submerged in the icy waters of Lake Busbee, in the dark, all alone.

I fought my way to the surface, panting, crying, unable to breathe properly. I coughed and retched, tears flowing steadily down my face, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth when I realized that I had bit open my lip upon impact.

After what seemed like ages, I was able to crawl back onto shore, heaving, my heart rate uncontrollable.

"Good idea, Park!" I heard someone screech. "Who knew the shrimp was so afraid of water?"

Parker? Parker had been the one to come up with this?

I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it.

But I had to.

Because who else would have known that my parents—my real parents—had drowned ten years earlier?

Who else would have known that the water would have triggered my own personal hell?

Only Parker Hill knew those things.

And Parker Hill had been the one to betray me.

They left me there on the shore that night. Bleeding, crying, drenched. They left me there to deal with the fears that I thought had long gone—the fears that I thought Parker could protect me from.

I eventually had to call my adoptive mother, Mary Anne, to come pick me up. She and her daughter Penny—who was only fourteen at the time—came as quickly as possible, but then again, Reidville was three hours away.

And I was stuck on that goddamn beach for hours, with no one there to hold me close or comfort me. No one there to tell me that everything was going to be okay.

I was stuck there with betrayal and loss and fear still penetrating the depths of my soul—unable to rid myself of the things that would always come back to haunt me, no matter how hard I tried to ignore them.

Because my demons would always be there to remind me of that night.

________

By the time Hailey is finished, I can't quite breathe right.

She sits there, the rays of the setting sun illuminating her features, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. I have a death grip on her hand—something I only realize when I see my knuckles are white against her clenched palm. I quickly release my fingers from her own, afraid that I hurt her, but she simply laces them back together again.

"I don't want to let go." She whispers, and I nod.

"Okay."

Hailey then takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I brought you here. I shouldn't have said anything, you probably think—"

I scoot closer to her, shaking my head.

"Hailey, no. No, I'm glad you told me. Because you didn't deserve that. What they did was terrible. Absolutely awful. And there are a thousand other things I want to say about them, because those people were downright evil to you. I knew it the night they tried to break into the library. I knew from the way you held onto me that you were scared, and rightfully so. I just didn't know it ran this deep.

"They could be arrested for that, Hailey! They could be put in jail, and you would never have to see them again. They abused you, you hear me? They abused you! They abused the one person on this whole goddamn planet who doesn't deserve it and I want to kill them for it!"

My voice is shaking, there are fresh tears pooling in my eyes. I stare at Hailey, who looks taken aback.

"Charlie—"

"No!" I protest, trembling with all of this unchecked rage in my veins, all of this fury. "Don't tell me to calm down, Hailey! Don't tell me that you deserved it! Because you don't, alright?! You don't!"

"Charlie, don't do this! Why do you even—"

"Why do I even care?" I scoff, no longer in check with my emotions—there are so many things pulsing through me, so many things that I just want to get out. "Why do I even care?! I'll tell you why I care! I'll tell you! I care because I love you!"

Silence. The tears in my eyes slowly fade away, and though I am still shaking, I can see Hailey's face clearly now, I can see her shocked expression.

"God, Hailey, I love you." I say, looking down at our entwined hands, my voice trembling and tight. "I love you no matter whether you're adopted or not, I love you whether people like you or not, I love you whether you love me or not. And I know that this is sudden, and it's all happening so fast, but—I can't—"

And suddenly her lips are on mine, her hands in my hair, pulling me closer to her. She kisses me deeply, as if she's trying to convey every emotion she's ever felt through the burning bliss of her lips, and then I'm kissing her back, hard, harder than I've ever kissed anyone before.

Then we both pull away, breathing hard, and she rests her forehead on mine with a watery smile.

"I love you, too."