Falling to Pieces (11 page)

“Oh yeah? So you’re a big college man now, huh?” Michael’s tone is condescending, his expression dark.

“I am in college, if that’s what you’re asking,” I say irritated with his attitude
, and not quite sure how to respond. I lean my back against my car to appear more nonchalant than I feel.

“You never really paid for what you did,” Michael says, towering over me.

“And now you’re here to make sure that I do?” I push my back off the car, steeling myself for what’s to come. I guess I should’ve predicted this would happen at some point this summer.

Cole clamps a hand over Michael’s shoulder. “Okay, calm down. No one’s making anyone pay. We’re all friends here.”

“I’m not friends with this guy,” Michael says.

“Shut up, Michael.” Cole shoves him. “We’re all friends. We’ve been friends our entire lives.”

“Not anymore.” Michael turns a dark eye on me. “Not until he makes up for what he did.”

“And how are you going to make that happen, huh, Michael? By beating him up? You think that will make this all better?” Cole gets right in Michael’s face.

“Asher?” My mom’s voice rings out. “Everything okay?” She stands in the doorway wearing a concerned expression.

I
look at Michael, throwing my arms up. “If you’re gonna beat me up it’s gonna have to be somewhere else. My mom’ll freak if we get blood all over her driveway.”

“No one’s beating anyone up,” Cole says, pushing Michael back.

“Speak for yourself.”

I shake my head
, and walk toward the house.

“This isn’t over, Porter,” Michael calls after me.

I’m sure it isn’t.

Without turning around, I hurry up the walkway and push past Mom to get into the house. The scent of potpourri is suffocating
, and I find it difficult to draw breath.

“What was that all about?” Mom asks after closing the door.

“Nothing. Just guy stuff, you know.” No need to worry my mom.

She knits her brows together. “That didn’t look like nothing. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, Mom. It’s fine.”  I turn around and walk swiftly up to my room, bumping into Reece on the way up.

“Dude, what’s going on? I thought you were
gonna get into a fight in our front yard.”

I glance back to make sure Mom isn’t listening, and then I shoot Reece a warning look before continuing up the stairs. He clambers after me, reaching me just as I walk into my room.

“What happened? Did he find out you were hanging out with Ivy again?”

I groan. “I didn’t invite you in
, and I don’t want to talk to you about this.”

“Fine, but if you need back up just let me know, dude.”

“Sure thing, dude,” I respond sarcastically before slamming the door in his face. After peeling off my sweaty shirt, I discard it in the hamper and throw myself on the top of my bed. I interlock my hands and rest my head on them as I stare up at the ceiling. That was close, and I fear that next time I won’t be so lucky. Michael has his sights set on me now. It’s not like I don’t deserve it, but I still would rather not have my face dented in this summer. Memories of that night assault my senses, and I desperately try to shove them back down and keep them quiet. I just couldn’t think straight once I saw those bruises covering Ivy’s back. Not to mention that the look she gave me was so vulnerable and scared. It broke me in a way nothing else ever has. Ivy has never been just another girl to me.

From the moment I first saw h
er she made a huge impression. It was the middle of freshman year and she had just moved here. The whole school was talking about the hot new girl. I’d been searching for her all day, hoping to see what all the hype was about.

Only nothing could’ve prepared me for what I felt when I saw her. She was hot, just like everyone said, but there was also something else. There was something different about her, I could tell. I felt drawn to her in a way I’d never felt drawn to anyone. It was like she was an enchantress
, and she had put a spell on me.

Honestly the thing I liked most about her, though, was the fact that she didn’t fawn all over me like the other girls. That first time I approached her, I had expected her to be flustered like Peyton and her friends were around me. Only she wasn’t.

I purposely bumped into her walking to class. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, brushing my hand lightly against her arm.

She moved away from me, a guarded look on her face. Up close I realized that she had the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen.
“It’s fine.” She readjusted the strap on her backpack, and clutched the papers in her hand so tight her knuckles whitened.

“You must be new here,” I said.

“What was your first clue?” she shot back sarcastically.

I chuckled
, and stuck out my hand. “I’m Asher.”

“Ivy.” She shook my hand, but kept her distance.

“So, what class do you have next?” Students raced past, and a few glanced over at us curiously.

“Mrs. Roman.”

“I know right where that is. I’ll help you find it.”

Ivy shook her head. “It’s fine. The school gave me this really cool thing called a map, so I think I’m good.”

“Well, it just so happens that I have Mrs. Roman’s class this period too, so can I walk with you to class?”

She gave me a skeptical look. “Okay.”

I swept my arm forward. “I’ll let you and your really cool map lead the way.”

She giggled, and it surprised me based on how standoffish she’d been. “Great. We’d love to.” She lifted her chin and walked forward.

After that first day I wore her down. Pretty soon, we were hanging out all the time. But Ivy was right when she told Billie that I was a player in high school. I sort of had a reputation for dating around. A lot of my friends seemed to always be in serious relationships, but I wasn’t interested in that. I didn’t want to hang with the same girl all the time. I figured once you get married you’re stuck with the same person day in and day out. Why do that to yourself in high school? Besides there was no girl that I could even imagine wanting to spend all my time with.

Except for Ivy, and that scared me.

Something just exploded in me that night when I saw that she was hurt. I knew then that I would do anything to protect her; that I would never let anyone harm her again.

I know she didn’t fall. I’d bet my life on it. Someone hurt her, and I can’t figure out why she won’t tell me who
, especially after what I did for her. You would think she could trust me.

Her life wasn’t the only one altered that night. I gave up a lot too. And the unfair part is that I went into it with false information. The least she could do now is be honest with me. I spent the last year dreaming of what this summer might hold for Ivy and me, and now I fear it will be the end for us.

11

Ivy

It’s been two weeks since the party where I last saw Asher
, and I haven’t heard from him at all. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He seemed really angry when he sped away from my apartment. Not that I blamed him. If only I could tell him the truth. If only I could tell anyone the truth. But it’s too painful. Besides, if Asher knew the whole story he’d never want to be in my life. It’s better for me to lose him this way.

I step out of my car and my phone buzzes in my purse. I swirl my hand inside. My fingers brush over my keys, lipstick, wallet, and finally find my cell. I snatch it out.

Where r u?

On my way.
I type back quickly to Billie, and then slam my car door closed with my hip.

I’m meeting Billie at a restaurant
on Historic Sutter Street for dinner, but I couldn’t find any spaces close by, so I had to park over by the bridge. However, I don’t mind the walk. It will be good for me to clear my head. Not to mention that the air has cooled a little and a nice breeze blows across my face. I tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear and walk briskly through the parking lot. A couple walks a few feet ahead of me, holding hands and giggling. The sting of jealousy is sharp. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever have that kind of relationship.

My cell buzzes again.
I’m starving. Hurry.

Ok.
I shove the phone back into my purse and keep walking forward. I hear loud, rowdy voices behind me, and my shoulders stiffen. The sky is darkening. That’s the problem with meeting Billie near the Steakhouse after she gets off work. Then we don’t eat dinner until after nine, and that’s when the nightlife starts. Maybe I should’ve just stayed in with takeout again. As they near me, I pick up the pace, my heart rate quickening.

One of the guys laughs and it triggers a familiar feeling. I swallow hard.

“Do you think maybe you should’ve taken it easy on him,” a boy says, his voice laced with fear.

“Nah, he got what was coming to him.”

I freeze, knowing exactly who the voice belongs to. Michael. Cam’s best friend. I keep my head down and walk even faster. The last thing I want is for them to recognize me. My pulse races beneath my flesh and my palms fill with moisture. This is the last time I let Billie talk me into going out this late. As their footsteps near me, my heart beats frantically in my chest.

“Asher
brought this on himself,” Michael says. “I don’t feel bad.”

All the air leaves me
. My knees soften, and I find it hard to keep moving forward. What did they do to Asher? I hear their footsteps turn away from me and walk in the opposite direction of where I’m headed, and I heave a sigh of relief. After standing still a moment and taking a deep breath, I dare to look behind me. Luckily their backs are to me as they make their way down the street.

Michael’s words replay over and over in my mind like a broken record, causing terror to grip me.
Ever since Asher went after Cam, Michael has wanted to get him back.
This is all my fault. I have to find Asher to make sure he’s okay.

I pull my cell out of my purse and text Billie.
Start without me. Delayed.

Then I dial the numbers I haven’t used in over a year
, but I still know by heart. The phone rings and rings, but no one picks up. I exhale in frustration, picturing Asher beat up and bloody somewhere. I glance around the parking lot, and then past it to the bridge.
The lake.
They had to have been coming from there.

Throwing my cell back in my purse, I take off running toward the bridge. My legs move faster than I even thought possible. Asher had tried and failed to turn me into a runner
before. But at this moment, I’d run anywhere just to find Asher safe and sound. I cross the street and then enter the trail that leads down to the lake. Sweat beads along my forehead and upper lip, so I swipe it off with the back of my hand and keep running. My hair keeps slapping me in the face, no matter how many times I try to tuck it behind my ear. It’s so fine it doesn’t usually stay put.

When I almost reach the bridge, I spot a boy stepping out onto path from behind a tree. He’s mo
ving slowly and holding the side of his face. I rush forward, my heart in my throat.

“Asher?”

“Ivy?” His voice is unsure.

I grab him in my arms. Up close I take in his bruises and swollen face. “What happened?”
I want to touch his skin, to run my fingers over his wounds, but I keep them firmly around his waist.

“I fell,” he jokes.

I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s not funny.”

“I know. It’s not.” His voice sounds sad and hurt.

“Michael did this, didn’t he?” I ask. “I just heard him bragging to his friends about it.”

“They didn’t see you, did they?” Asher asks.

How come he’s still protecting me? “No, they didn’t.”

Asher reaches out a hand and tucks his finger under my chin. “You came to rescue me.” He says it like a fact, not a question
, so I don’t bother responding.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.”

Asher doesn’t let me guide him forward. “No, I don’t want my mom to see me like this. She’ll flip. Can you please just take me to your place so I can get cleaned up?”

I assess him. “I don’t know. Maybe we should take you to the doctor.”

“I’m fine, Ivy. It’s nothing a little ice and Tylenol won’t cure.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. It wasn’t even as bad as I thought it would be.”

I pause. “You were expecting this?”

Asher nods. “Michael’s been threatening it for over a year. To be honest, I’m glad it’s finally done.”

I know he’s right
, but it sickens me. “Okay, I’ll take you back to my place.” With my arm around his waist, I help him to my car. Once inside, he rests his head against the back of the seat. When I come around to the driver’s side and slide in, I glance over at his knuckles. Just as I suspected, they’re not bruised at all.

“Did you even fight back?” I turn on the car.