Shadow Me

Two - Could Have Been Worse

Haley

I throw Ryan's car door open and lock it behind me, shoving my keys into my pocket. Even if I lose them, I won't need them as late as I'm supposed to be out. Zelda stays over every weekend to get extra chores finished around the house and allow her kids the use of something other than a little shack over their heads. My parents don't know this, but I told her she could bring them as much as she wanted as long as she was my nanny. My parents, as absent as they are, only ever drop in on week days, leaving the weekends safe for hiding my nanny.

I hear the door unlock before I even reach it, and open it only to frown down into it. He's smoking tobacco as if it's not some hot commodity these days that's hard to find. After everything happened, illegal street drugs were hard to find, but tobacco and m*******a became a hot commodity that cost exorbitant amounts just to touch, let alone inhale and consume. Much to my dismay, he doesn't put it out when I get inside, but rather cracks a window and continues smoking.

"How'd you even get that thing?" I say.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to," he drawls out as if he's something cool.

There it is, I think. The reason that I never wanted him to take me out. He puts on a front at school. He's the home town hero, making the game of football worth watching in small towns again. Football hasn't been on a television since before the days went dark. But the boy is going to kill his lungs and his chances at really bringing the game back. Scrunching my nose, I start going through the list of excuses to leave early that I have stockpiled away for nights like this, but come up short, because I don't have nights like this.

It's not long before I can see the smoke wafting from behind the trees toward the forest. He turns onto the old dirt road that takes us into the clearing where all the action is, all the while I'm holding onto the door handle, ready to make a leap for it if he doesn't ease over the bumpy ground. Finally, he parks the truck, but not before I curse his name out loud.

"s**t, Ryan. Do you even know how to drive this thing?"

He just grins at me, arrogance all over his face.

"Fun, right?" he says.

I try to hide my annoyance and get out of the truck, hopping down and smoothing out my jeans. I walk around the back of his truck and meet him near the tail gate. He offers his hand, but I pretend not to see it. Suddenly the dirt is very interesting. It doesn't matter anyway, because he puts his arm around the small of my back, his hand finding the sliver of skin that usually is present right above the tops of my jeans.

We walk from the truck to where the bonfire is, with the music getting increasingly loud as we move. Finally, we're right up next to it, with the full heat blasting into my skin. Everyone has a cup in their hands or are dancing or laughing, or making out in public. Not my thing. I walk around the fire, watching the flames dance to their own beat, outside of the rhythm of the music.

"I'll go get us some drinks," he says as he bumps my shoulder with his.

"Wait," I say, but he's already gone before I can tell him I don't drink.

"Haley!" I hear my name, and know who it is without looking.

A very loud, happy, and quite possibly tipsy Clarissa makes her way to me and throws her arms around me in a big hug. Scott is rolling up behind her when I look at him and point to her in a silent "what the heck" movement. He just shrugs his shoulders as she continues to hug me.

"I'm so glad you're here," Clarissa says, "I always worry about you getting left behind."

"Good to know," I say as I pat her back awkwardly.

"I should get another drink," she says into my ear.

"You definitely shouldn't," I say.

"Okay."

With this, Scott takes her by the hips and leads her to his truck, I'm guessing to take her home. Leave it to Clarissa to be wasted before I make it to the party, and have to leave before seeing me there like she'd wanted in the first place.

"Here you go," Ryan says from behind me.

I take the drink from his hand and give it a sniff, trying hard to hide the cringe from the smell of the caramel colored liquid.

"Walk with me?" he says as he begins walking out toward the woods.

"Okay," I say, falling into step with him.

We walk a good ways before he finally speaks.

"I'm glad you let me take you out tonight."

"Good," I say as I lean with my back against a tree. He stops right in front of me, and takes a long pull of his beer, staring into my eyes as if he's something sexy. I try not to roll my eyes when he lets out a contented sigh.

"Are you having fun?" he says.

"I guess," I say, looking away, "partying isn't really my thing."

"Never thought it would be," he says, stepping closer, "I really just wanted to get you alone."

This was it. I knew this was supposed to be some kind of romantic moment. I could always tell that Ryan had a crush on me, but I tried to ignore it. I've indulged this little moment with him to see if maybe I have feelings for him. But as he licks his lips and leans into me I can't help but think, I forgot to give Zelda my laundry today. Probably not the thing I'm supposed to be thinking about when a boy is leaning in to kiss me.

His lips meet mine in this awkward, closed mouth kiss that would charm the pants off of tree bark. Certainly not me. I try to ignore the feeling growing in the pit of my stomach, screaming that this is wrong, but falter when he swipes his tongue across my lips and I jolt, surprised. He pulls back for a split second and smiles before leaning back in for more. He must think I like it.

"Ryan," I say, but am cut off by his lips back on mine.

Is this really what it's supposed to be like? Kisses? I've kissed two other guys before and all of them were like this. Either people have really been lying about lust and love all these years, or there's something wrong with me. He grabs my hips, pushing his hands up my shirt, and that's when I know I've had enough.

"Wait," I say, and he stops, looking at me expectantly.

"You okay?" he asks.

"I want to go home," I say.

I probably could have found a better way to say I'm not interested, but all I want to do is leave.

"What?" he says, surprise and a flare of anger lacing his tone.

"I want to go home," I repeat.

"Are you kidding me right now? What is wrong with you?" he asks, clenching his fingers into my hips. He starts to move back in and brushes his lips with mine, and I feel it. It feels like his finger tips are burning into my skin, like being shot slowly.

"Ryan!"

He pulls back again and looks at me like he's trying to decide on something for a few seconds before he lets go, and I take a deep breath, and let it out quickly as the burning subsides.

"Can you take me back to Clarissa's or something?"

"Thought you wanted to go home."

"I've changed my mind," I say, needing to drop the idea of home, lest he try to follow me inside.

He doesn't say anything, just turns and starts walking back toward the party and hopefully, back toward his car.

When we do get to his car, he slams his door as I get in, and I can see he's squeezing the hell out of his steering wheel.

***

One thing I've always like about Clarissa's house is that her parents gave me a key to come and go as I please. When we were young, and they realized that my parents were never really around, they took me in as much as they could for a girl whose child was not theirs. More so than my own, they've been parents. So when I knock on Clarissa's door but hear nothing, I just pull my key out of my purse and let myself in.

"Clarissa!" I call out.

Nothing.

"Clare!"

Still nothing.

I walk upstairs and head into Clarissa's room, worried at this point about what I'll find. Halfway up the steps though, I hear a groan. Not just any groan, but someone groaning my name. I open Clarissa's door to find her across the room, in her bathroom, with her head hanging over the toilet seat.

"Haley," she mumbles out as she fights her gagging.

"I don't want to say you deserve that, but... that's what you get for going out and partying way too hard on a Friday night," I say as I pull up behind her and grab her stupid hair from her sweaty face.

"I have regrets," she says.

"Of course you do."

I cringe away, turning my head to the side as she throws up.

"Okay, I think I'm done for now," she says as she flushes and scoots toward her bathtub and leans back on it.

"Good."

"How'd your night with Ryan go?" she asks. I fight a frown.

"Really bad," I say.

"What? Why? The guy has been in love with you for forever," she says.

"He kissed me," I say.

"And?"

"And I felt nothing. Like I was numb to it or something. And then when I asked him to stop he dug his fingers into my hips. I swore I'd have bruises. Speaking of," I say, pulling up my shirt to check my skin, "See?!" I say as I jut out my hip for her to see the faint scratches from where his fingers dug into me.

"Oh my gosh," she says, her eyes bugging out of her skull.

"Yeah! Like are you kidding me?"

"I can't believe he did that. He's usually so calm, not rapey."

I cringe.

"Don't say that. That wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been," I say.

"You're right. Guys have been bad since everything began, but still. That's scary."

She's not wrong. Since Yellowstone blew and the country basically was destroyed by outside forces and by its citizens, the rate of violence picked up. Most notably, however, was the violence against women. It's like once people felt like the world might end, laws went by the wayside and suddenly there were no repercussions or consequences.

They were wrong. We all were.

"I needed to come tell you. It felt wrong. Every kiss I've had has felt wrong. The sad part is I think I'm the common denominator," I say.

"No, definitely not," she says.

"I'd hug you right now, but you look like you're about to spew again.

"I am," she says as she heads back toward the toilet, "you might just want to go get me a soda or something."

I move toward her, pat her back, and leave to get her the soda that probably won't help her nausea.