For the Save (Playing for Keeps #4) (5 page)

Addison

The dining room was empty. It had been that way for months. Stepping inside, I ran the pads of my fingers over the wooden surface. When I drew them back they were covered in dust. The chairs were neatly pushed in, the candle in the center of the table dark. As my gaze landed on the chair Ben used to sit in, my stomach clenched. The television sounded from the other room. A few minutes earlier, I’d heard the microwave ding. No doubt Mom was eating dinner in front of the TV again tonight. Not that she cooked anymore. I was sure it was one of the prepackaged meals. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t hungry anyway.

Glancing down at my body, I cringed. I had always been thin. One of those girls who could eat anything and not gain weight. My friends were constantly jealous of me. But the truth was that I envied their curves. Kids hadn’t called them Macaroni Girl when they were in elementary school. I had finally started to fill out a little last year, but lately I’d lost all those extra pounds. I was now skin and bones, a walking skeleton.

Moving around the table, I touched the chair that used to be mine. It was across from Ben’s. We liked to make faces at each other while Mom and Dad talked. Sometimes we’d kick each other from under the table. But subtly, so our parents didn’t notice. That was our game – to see how far we could go without getting caught. Apparently throwing food was where that line was drawn. The one time we tried it we both got in trouble and had to finish eating in our rooms.

Dinnertime used to be eventful, used to be full of laughter and noise, good food. Now it was solitary. A microwaved meal in front of the television. One more reason I was angry with Ben. I often wondered if he ever thought about the affect his death would have on me. Did he even ponder it at all?

I used to think we were close. Sure, we fought like all siblings, but we also had a lot of fun. We hung out, we watched movies, we played games, sometimes we even shared secrets. But he never told me this. He never once hinted that he wanted to end his life. In fact, he never even seemed sad to me. In the days leading up to his death, I remembered him laughing and talking like he hadn’t a care in the world. Looking back, I could remember some things that seemed off about him in the months before his death, but nothing too alarming.

And that’s what nagged at me.

Even his best friend Kevin had been surprised. Told me Ben hadn’t given him any indication he was going to do this.

It didn’t make any sense.

Leaving the dining room and its unwanted memories behind, I shuffled upstairs to my room. I didn’t bother grabbing anything to eat. Nothing sounded good anyway. When I reached my bedroom, I glanced at the closed door across the hall.
Ben’s room.
The scratches were still present from when Ben tried to carve his name in the door. I could still make out a scary B and something resembling an E. He’d never gotten around to adding the N. The jagged letters mocked me, and my insides coiled into tiny knots. Knots so tiny they almost squeezed the air right out of me.

No one went in Ben’s room anymore. Mom had tried at first, thinking someone should go through his stuff. But it had been too painful for her. With a shudder, I slipped into my room and closed my door. As I hopped up onto my bed, I wished it was that simple to shut myself away from the world. That it was as simple as the slam of a door, the pull of a doorknob, the click of a lock. But my pain and sorrow always found its way back to me no matter what I did.

Pulling my legs up close to my body I got out my phone. Clicking on my Instagram app I scrolled through the pictures. Everyone looked so happy and carefree. It made my stomach knot. No one else was hiding away in their room, trying to escape their pain. Instead, they were all taking selfies, showing off their newest look or hanging with friends. Before I knew it, I found myself on Sawyer’s account. Curious, I searched through his pictures, feeling like a stalker. Social media was weird like that. You could glimpse someone’s life without them even knowing. In other instances it would be considered a crime, but in this instance it was totally acceptable.

Most of Sawyer’s pictures were football related – football memes or pictures of his favorite players. He did have some of himself – playing football or a few of him out with the guys. I paused over one, my pulse quickening. It was from months ago. His smile was large, innocence filling his eyes. That innocence was gone now. His life had been irrevocably changed. The happy go lucky guy in this photo had vanished, and he’d never come back. Not completely. I knew that better than anyone.

The old Sawyer, the one everyone called Riddles, is gone too. And I know you get that. It doesn’t seem like anyone else does, and that’s why I like you.

As much as I hated to admit it, Sawyer was right. We were alike.

Swiping my fingertip over the screen, I touched Sawyer’s face, remembering what it was like when he touched and kissed me. The way his lips felt on mine, the way he stared at me with such intensity it caused a chill to snake down my spine. Sure, I’d been kissed before, but never like that.

Before today, the most memorable kiss I’d experienced was with Justin, one of my brother’s friends. It was freshman year, and Justin was over spending the night. Ben had fallen asleep and Justin had ventured out of Ben’s room. I’d had a secret crush on Justin for years, but never thought anything would ever happen between us. It couldn’t. My brother would kill us both, I was sure of it. But that night Justin found me in the family room watching some chick flick. I’d always been a night owl. Even before Ben’s death, insomnia had plagued me. Justin admitted that he had trouble sleeping as well, and he joined me on the couch. Next thing I knew we were making out. It was intense and forbidden. The best kiss ever.

Until now.

The kiss between Sawyer and I may not have been forbidden. He wasn’t an older guy I’d had a crush on for years. And yet, the heat between us was undeniable. When his lips pressed to mine it was like he ignited something inside of me. Something I hadn’t even known was there. And I wanted him in a way that I’d never wanted anyone before. My body craved him. I craved him.

But I knew it was wrong.

Everything about it was. The timing, the reason. Everything.

Yet even so, I found myself wanting to kiss him again.

Sawyer

“Everything okay, son?” Dad sat across from me at the kitchen table, one eyebrow raised. He reminded me of one of those detectives on TV with his slicked back dark hair and pensive expression. Which I guess made sense. He was a manager at his job, and he was known for getting his employees to spill their guts. No one could get away with anything when it came to my dad. I know I never had been able to.

“Yep,” I answered with a shrug.

Dad speared a piece of lettuce onto his fork. “Really? Because it seems like your mind is elsewhere.”

My mind was elsewhere, all right. I’d spent the entirety of dinnertime daydreaming about Addison’s purple hair, green eyes, and sexy lips. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was difficult even before I kissed her. Now it was impossible. She was taking over my thoughts, consuming me the same way a fire did. It started off as nothing more than a spark, but then it turned into a flame and pretty soon it burned through everything in sight.

“Did you have your grief counseling group this week?” Dad pressed.

Mom lifted her head, suddenly very interested in the conversation. I confided in Dad more often than Mom. It wasn’t because I was closer to Dad necessarily. It was because Dad coped with things better, especially related to the shooting. Mom got all weepy, her eyes concerned, her lips trembling. Talking to her only succeeded in causing her to worry more than she already was. And that didn’t help me. Dad remained neutral, his face giving away nothing. It was easier that way.

I nodded.

“Is it going well?” Mom interjected, the quivering lips starting up like the revving of an engine. Pretty soon it would be a full-blown tremor, and then the waterworks would come next.

“Very,” I assured her, and the relief in her expression was instant. Thankfully the trembling died down. I figured it was safe to try out the Addison topic now. “A friend of mine from school started coming.”

“Oh. A friend of Ryan’s too?” Dad asked.

“No. She’s not attending because of what happened at school. She lost her brother,” I explained.

Pity filled Mom’s eyes, so I turned away from her.

“A girl, huh?” Dad pinned me with a knowing look.

Unable to meet his gaze, I cut a piece of chicken and popped it into my mouth. I stared hard at my plate, studying the blue and white pattern around the edges. The memory of the day Mom bought them leapt into my mind. We spent hours in the department store while Mom painstakingly searched through the dining ware. When she found this set she asked what I thought. I remembered snapping at her, telling her they all looked the same, so she should just pick one. It’s funny the things that used to upset me. Now spending hours in a store with Mom didn’t sound as bad as it used to. Maybe because I knew that tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. Lately I’d been slowing down, becoming more patient. And I found enjoyment in things that used to bother me.

“Yeah.” I shrugged like it was no big deal. But I was sure my face gave away how I really felt about Addison. It was hard to hide. Holden had seen right through me, and he wasn’t nearly as intuitive as my parents. “I’ve actually known her for awhile. Knew her brother too.”

“How did he die?” Mom asked, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She’d stopped eating. Talk of death had ruined her appetite. Death had a way of doing that. And it seemed that it colored so many of our conversations lately.

“Suicide.” My stomach clenched the way it always did when I thought of Ben. It didn’t make sense to me that he would choose to end his life that way.

Mom’s hand flew to her mouth, a small gasp escaping.

“Did you know him well?” Dad cleared his throat. After setting down his fork, he ran a napkin across his lips and then pushed back his plate that was only half-empty. Apparently dinner was over. Not that I was disappointed. The conversation had been a major downer.

“No, not really. He was older than me, but we talked a couple of times. And sometimes I ran into him around town.” I paused. An image flashed in my mind, causing my insides to twist. I’d seen Ben two days before he’d died. But that wasn’t the significant part. It was who he was with, and what he was doing. At the time it seemed like nothing more than a benign encounter. I hadn’t really given it a second thought. Not until right now. But it did mean something. That was clear. Only I wasn’t sure I could share it. At least not with Addison. Not now that she was starting to open up to me. If she knew what I’d witnessed, she’d be angry. Angry that I hadn’t told her sooner. Angry that I’d told her at all. Angry that it happened. Just plain angry.

I didn’t like angry on her. I liked when she smiled. That was the Addison I wanted to see more of. The smiling Addison.

That was why I had to keep this to myself. At least for a little while.

Besides, perhaps I was wrong. Maybe it meant nothing at all.

I spotted her sitting across the quad, her back resting against the side of the building. Her head was bent down as she wrote in her notebook. A wall of purple hair hid her face. Hurriedly, I made my way towards her. The closer I got, I felt my lips tugging at the corners while my palms filled with moisture.

“Hey, Riddles. We’re sitting over here today.” Holden intercepted me, pointing over my shoulder.

When I turned, I saw Chloe sitting in the grass under a tree, her lunch in her lap. I felt conflicted, until my gaze rested on Addison again. There was no doubt where my heart wanted to go.

“Um…” I scratched the back of my neck. “Actually I was going to sit…um…somewhere else today.”

Holden followed my stare, a knowing grin on his face. “Ahh, I see.” He slapped me on the back. “Have fun. I’ll catch up with ya later.”

“Yeah.” I nodded as he stepped past me. Taking a deep breath, I walked with clipped strides to reach Addison. She didn’t even glance up at me until I plopped beside her.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone wasn’t exactly friendly, but it wasn’t as mean as before, so that was a start.

I shrugged. “Hoping to join you for lunch.”

She narrowed her eyes in a look of skepticism. Then she lowered her head and kept writing.

“Watcha writing?” I peered over at the paper.

Blowing out a frustrated sigh, she covered the words with her hand.

“Come on. I’ve already read one of your poems.”

“Not because I showed it to you,” she said. And she did have a point.

I nudged her in the side. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll drop this one too.”

This elicited a tiny smile. “Don’t count on it.”

Reaching in my backpack, I pulled out a soda and popped the top. It cracked and sizzled, the carbonation rising. “Have you always written poetry?”

She nodded. “Since I was a little girl. Writing has always been therapeutic for me. It’s my way of processing things. When I’m writing, everything seems all right with the world.”

I loved the way her eyes shone when she spoke of writing. “That’s kind of how I feel about football. I know it’s not the same as creating something the way you do when you write, but it helps to calm me.”

“I can see that.” She closed her notebook and faced me.

It was a small gesture, but it felt significant to me. A group of girls walked past, all laughing and chatting loudly. Addison stiffened, her lips pressing tightly together. Her gaze jumped away from the girls, like she feared they’d catch her looking. I looked up, recognizing the girls as Addison’s former friends. Once they were gone, I turned to Addison. “What’s the story there? How come you don’t hang out with them anymore?”

She shook her head. “I thought I made it clear that I’m not like you, Sawyer. I don’t want to share my feelings. That’s the reason I write. So I can get it all out without having to talk about it.” Agitated, she shoved her notebook into her backpack and stood. “This was a bad idea.” Flinging the backpack over her shoulder, she spun around.

Panic bloomed inside my chest. I set my soda down and leapt off the ground. Before Addison could walk away, I caught her arm, circling my fingers around her wrist. Then I yanked her toward me. Her eyes widened as I brought my face close to hers.

“You made me a promise,” I said firmly. “You said you wouldn’t run away from me again.”

“And you promised not to pry.” She lifted her head defiantly.

I chuckled. “No, I didn’t. I promised not to make you go back to the group, and not to steal your poems. I have no intention of making you go to the counseling, and I haven’t taken one of your poems. I’ve held up my end of the deal. Are you going to hold up yours?”

She bit her lip, and damn if it didn’t make me want to kiss her. I swallowed hard, waiting for her response.

“Fine,” she finally said.

It wasn’t exactly an invitation to kiss her, but I took it like it was. Drawing her forward, I pressed my lips to hers. She wriggled her arm free and stepped back.

“What the hell was that?”

I flashed her my most innocent smile. “I never promised not to kiss you.”

She glared. “I might need to add that to the list.”

“No, you won’t.”

A stunned expression painted her face. “What?”

“I’d never agree to it.” I stepped closer. “Besides, I don’t think you hate it as much as you want me to think you do.”

She shook her head. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a big head?”

Reaching up, I ran my fingers through my hair. “I think its normal sized.”

Addison rolled her eyes. “I think you’re earning back your nickname today.”

“C’mon.” I touched her arm. “Let’s sit back down.”

After giving me one last hesitant glance she exhaled and then sank down onto the ground. I sat next to her and dug into my backpack, searching for my lunch. Once I’d taken a bite of my sandwich, I noticed Addison hadn’t gotten any food out.

“You’re not hungry?”

She tossed me an exasperated look.

“What?” I threw up my arms as if I was involved in a stick up. “I can’t even ask if you’re hungry?”

Without responding, she crossed her arms over her chest.

Leaning toward her I said, “Okay, I won’t force you to talk about things that make you uncomfortable. But surely we can make small talk, right?”

Her face softened a bit. “No, I’m not hungry. I haven’t really been in awhile.”

I knew that feeling. In the weeks after Ryan’s death, food turned my stomach. “I know it’s hard, but you have to eat something.” She was already so thin, but I didn’t want to mention that. It was clear that wouldn’t go over well.

“Are you here as my friend or my shrink?”

I wasn’t going to let her walk all over me at every turn. “I’m your friend, Addison. And as your friend I’m telling you that you need to eat. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t care.” Dipping my hand into my ziplock bag, I pulled out the uneaten half of my sandwich. “Here.”

She eyed me funny a minute, but I knew I had her. Finally she wrapped her hand around the sandwich. “Thanks,” she mumbled, bringing the sandwich to her mouth.

As I watched her bite into it, I felt irrational jealousy. God, what I wouldn’t give to be that sandwich right now. When she brought the sandwich down, a couple of crumbs stuck to the lipgloss on her lips. Reaching out my hand, I brushed away the crumbs with my fingertips. Her lips felt soft and supple beneath the pads of my fingers. I longed to keep touching her, but I could tell she was already getting uncomfortable. Her gaze darted around the quad as if making sure no one was looking. Honestly, it damaged my ego a bit.

“Addison, are you embarrassed by me?”  I dropped my hand into my lap.

“What do you mean?” Her eyebrows knit together.

“You keep looking around like you want to make sure no one is noticing us. Are you worried someone is going to think we’re together or something?”

“Aren’t you?”

I shook my head emphatically. “Not at all. Why would I be?”

“I’m a freak, Sawyer. A girl with piercings and purple hair.”

“I think it looks nice.” I touched one of her colorful strands. “Besides, your hair and piercings aren’t who you are. They’re just a choice you made. If you don’t like it, why’d you do it in the first place?”

When anger flashed in her eyes, I worried that I’d gone too far. For a moment I’d forgotten to tread carefully; forgotten how easily I could push her away. She’d made it clear that she was always looking for an excuse to take off. But then she dropped her head, her gaze landing to the hands that were clasped in her lap. All of the anger and bravado she’d had up until this moment vanished. She appeared so vulnerable that I wanted to sweep her into my arms. To hold her close, to stroke her hair and whisper that everything would be okay. But I couldn’t do that. Not because I was sure she’d push me away, but because I wouldn’t make idle promises to her. I wouldn’t tell her everything would be okay, because I wasn’t sure that it would be.

“Because if they’re talking about my purple hair or my piercings, they’re not talking about my brother. I’d rather be a freak because I choose to, not because my brother killed himself.” She spoke so softly I barely caught the words, and her eyes stayed glued to her hands.