Ruin (5 page)

Chapter Ten

Maybe the darkness wasn’t closing in like I first assumed. Maybe, I just invited it without knowing?

Kiersten

The alarm jolted me awake. The first thing I realized was that my nightmares hadn’t been as terrible last night. In fact, I didn’t wake up screaming. I wanted to jump into the air and thank God. The medication had been giving me nightmares for months now, but it was worth it if it helped me power through the day.

I turned off the alarm on my phone and shuffled to the door. I was thankful that I had been put in a suite with Lisa. We shared a kitchen and living room with two other girls who were pre-med. Which meant it was like living alone. They didn’t watch TV, they apparently didn’t eat, and when I asked if they were on Facebook I got judgmental looks from both of them.

I yawned and went to start making coffee in the kitchen just as Lisa tumbled out of her room, swearing. “Too early!”

“It’s seven.”

“My point exactly.” She ran her hands through her blond hair and sat at the table. “Where were you last night? I came home and you were already in bed.”

“I was, uh…” I busied my hands pouring the grounds into the filter. “With Weston. He took me to another party and—”

“Whoa!” she croaked. “Another party? Where at?”

“Kappa.” I said.

“NO way!” she screamed. “They have the best parties! Only upperclassmen are invited! Did you meet anyone hot? Were they nice? Did they have drugs? I’ve heard they have drugs. Holy crap, are you going to go back? Should you go back? We need Gabe.”

“You done?”

She inhaled and exhaled twice before nodding. “Yes, I think so.”

“Good.” The coffee started brewing. “Everything seemed normal. It was just a few gorgeous people drinking, eating, and—” I left out the part about Lorelei.

“And?” Lisa scooted closer to the table. “And what? He kissed you? You’re having his love child? He wants to marry you and I get to live above the garage?”

“No.” I laughed. “To all of the above. He wants to be friends.”

“Friends?” She tapped her mouth with her fingertip. “With the hottest guy on campus? Why does that rub me the wrong way?”

“Because you want in his pants.”

Lisa snorted. “Honey, I’d
be
his pants. That’s how desperate I am. But why friends? Why not more?”

“He’s not into freshmen.” I shrugged.

“Ri-i-i-i-ight.” Lisa nodded. “But he is male and you’re hot. That means one thing.”

“You’re living above his garage?”

“I wish.” She pouted and looked toward the door. “What’s that?”

“The door?” Seriously, did she drink last night?

“Thank you.” Lisa rolled her eyes. “Not that.” She pointed at the door. “That.”

A piece of paper was folded on the floor. It had my name on it. Holy crap! My name, in really nice handwriting.

“It’s not like it has anthrax in it.” Lisa bent down and picked it up. “Read it.” She thrust it in my face. “Come on! I’m curious.”

The coffee pot dinged. I snatched the paper and went to pour us both cups of coffee. Once seated, I tore into the note and read.

People don’t write letters anymore…
such a shame, don’t you think? Day 1. Your mission, if you choose to accept it:
Make two new friends, you know, people other than your roommate and her cousin. I don’t count either. Be sure to smile really big and raise your hand at least once in class. I’ll see you at lunch.

Your friend—Wes.

My smile couldn’t get any bigger if it tried. I re-read the note again and again, each time I read it, my heart pounded harder in my chest. It was the first morning in two years that I wasn’t thinking about my past. In fact, I hadn’t thought once about my parents’ accident. I was too happy, too excited to think about anything but the fact that a guy had written me a letter.

“Well?” Lisa asked. “What’s it say?”

“I’m getting married!”

“WHAT?” She screamed.

“Kidding,” I said, laughing as I held out the note. “Here, it’s from Wes.”

“Oh, so now it’s Wes?” Her eyebrows arched.

“Uh…” I looked away. “I meant Weston.”

“Right,” she grumbled and started reading. Her smile grew just like mine had, and by the time she was done she looked up, tears of excitement in her eyes. “He wrote you a love note!”

“It’s more of an instruction card.” I waved her off. “Clearly he’s trying to push me out of my shell.”

“Well, you are kind of like a hermit. And you did grow up in—” She paused “What’s the name of that rock you lived under? The one with one store?”

I sighed. “Bickelton.”

“Right. There.” She shook her head. “You need to get out and live. Methinks that Weston Michels thinks so too…”

“But—” I didn’t want to sound lame. Insecurity won over, making my voice shaky. “Why me?”

“Why
not
you?” She threw the letter onto the table. “You’re beautiful and you sparked his interest. Does there have to be a reason?”

“There’s always a reason,” I explained. “Guys like that don’t just pay attention to girls like me.”

“Girls like you are the reason guys like him exist.” Lisa smiled warmly. “You don’t see yourself how others see you. Maybe he sees more than you do when you look in the mirror. Whatever it is, don’t brush him off. He’s making an effort, and if I were you, I’d say thank you to God in my prayers tonight.”

I smiled. “Maybe I will.”

“Great.” She stood abruptly and stretched. Something glittered beneath her shirt — was that a belly ring? “Now, let’s get ready for our first class!” She did a little dance and ran off to her room, leaving me with my coffee and my note.

Chapter Eleven

Drugs suck.
Getting hit by a three hundred pound lineman? Yeah, sucks way harder.

Weston

“Michels!” Coach Jackson yelled. “Where’s your head this morning, huh? Focus!”

Right. Focus. Stop thinking about red hair and mega-watt smiles and what that smile would feel like if it was directed at me again, and that red hair again running through my hands, and—

“Michels!” The football snapped just in time for me to grab it and finish the play. I seriously needed to stop getting so distracted by her. What the hell was wrong with me?

By the time practice finished I had enough bruises to last me a lifetime, not the best sign for a quarterback.

“Where were you today?” Brad asked throwing off his clothes and jumping into the shower.

“Not present,” I grumbled doing the same.

“Right.” He snorted. “Better get present if we want that bowl game this year.”

I hated talking about the future. What was the point anyway? I nodded and gave him a gruff. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Once I was done showering, I went to one of the many school coffee shops and grabbed a protein shake. Two classes and then I could see Kiersten. She would have read my note by now, so she was either pissed or smiling. I hoped she was smiling. In fact, I hoped that when she woke up and read the note, she’d forget all about how to frown.

****

“Lunch.” I pushed a pile of food toward Kiersten and watched for a minute as she examined it with distaste. “You have to eat.”

“Not hungry.” She pushed the tray away and crossed her arms over her stomach.

“Bad first few classes?”

She glared.

I held up my hands. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I can’t.” Her face flushed as she looked around the cafeteria. Most everyone was staring at us as if we’d just announced we were going to adopt one of Brad Pitt’s twenty children.

“I’ll take care of it.” I sighed and sent a quick text to James. He hated covering for me, but at least it got people to stop gawking. I watched him across the cafeteria. He looked at his phone, scowled, and then threw his newspaper onto the table. In an instant he was walking toward us, after two or three strides he collapsed onto the floor.

Everyone gasped.

“Okay, so now they aren’t staring.” I nodded to Kiersten, “What happened in class?”

“Is he all right?” She pointed at James.

“Low blood sugar.” I looked away for a brief moment and cleared my throat. “So class?”

“Should we, like, call someone?” She pulled out her cell. I grabbed her wrist and shook my head. “He’ll be fine in about ten minutes or as long as it takes for you to tell me your story.”

“O-okay.” She kept staring at James but at least she was talking. “I raised my hand in class, but the professor reprimanded me for correcting him.”

I winced.

“And I made two new friends.”

I smiled.

She didn’t.

“Let’s just say they’re a bit more friendly than you.”

I swear I saw two deaths by my hands. “Who were they? Did they touch you? Hurt you? I’ll kill them, seriously. I’ll—” I stood and started frantically looking around the cafeteria for any punk freshman that was staring at her cross-eyed.

“Sit down.” She pulled me to my seat and shook her head. “I told them I had a boyfriend, case closed.”

“I meant friends who were girls.” Blood roared in my ears. “Not guys.”

“Well?” She threw her hands into the air in frustration. “They were the only two people that approached me.”

“I bet they were,” I grumbled.

“Wes?”

She called me Wes.

I could die happy.

Most people called me Wes. I hadn’t told her it was okay. It seemed natural. It’s how I’d signed my note.

I was turning into a chick.

My smile grew as her eyes narrowed.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Just happy.”

“That I failed at your little list?”

“No failure.” I shook my head. “You tried and that’s what counts. You need to get out from underneath the cloud.”

Her nostrils flared as she grabbed her bag and stood. “I gotta go.”

“Sit.”

“No.”

“Sit.” I jerked her down to the seat and softly held her hand in mine. I could feel her pulse in her wrist; it was erratic, angry. “I’m not sorry.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You remind me of my brother.”

“Huh?”

“Coma. Died,” I explained. “Overdosed.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said through clenched teeth.

I pushed back the dark thoughts of my brother’s demise, barely holding it together by a thread. “Depressed, talented, awesome, my favorite person in the world… he was all those things. And you — you remind me of him. I don’t know why, but you just do. So yeah, I’m pushing a little, but I think you can take it. Tell me you’re strong enough to take it.”

“You don’t know me.” Her voice was hard. It had an edge to it that I wasn’t used to hearing from girls.

“I do.”

“You. Don’t.”

I released her hand. “Better than you realize. Look, I don’t sugarcoat things, and I sure as hell don’t have time to be that guy. The one who waits for weeks to finally crack all your defenses. I’m different. Maybe I’m too intense. I get that. My methods are crazy. But I’m drawn to you — and honestly, you need me.”

“I don’t need anyone,” she whispered, sounding like she hardly believed herself let alone was capable of convincing anyone else.

“You do,” I said. “And I’ll wait until you say it to my face if that’s what it takes for you to realize it.”

With that, I got up from my seat and left her. I’d keep writing my notes. I’d keep pushing her.

Maybe if I could save her — I let out a rugged breath… maybe in saving her I’d be saving him. I couldn’t then, but I can now.

Chapter Twelve

People should just mind their own business. Right? I mean, how am I his problem?

Kiersten

“Who the hell does he think he is?” I yelled into the phone.

Uncle Jo sighed heavily on the other line. “He sounds like a nice young man, and he does have a point.”

I wanted to throw something against the wall. I pulled out another pill and crunched it between my teeth. It was bitter, but I didn’t care. I needed to feel better. I mean, in theory I knew antidepressants weren’t supposed to be taken like that, but the placebo effect was enough — for now.

“Kiersten, he was being a good friend. You do tend to wear your emotions on your sleeve.”

“I’ve known him a day! And what? He wants to help me? To save me? He’s making it worse!”

“How so?” Uncle Jo asked in a calm voice. “It seems to me that he’s pulling off the band-aid you’ve been gluing to your feelings. I’m no expert, but you can only function at the level you’ve been functioning at for so long. I allowed you to go to school four hours away so that you could have your freedom. Remember our agreement.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I sat on the bed and groaned. “Shape up or you ship out and pack my crap.”

His chuckle calmed me. “Exactly. You haven’t dealt with your grief in a healthy way. You shouldn’t still be on antidepressants, you shouldn’t be so uptight. For God sake Kiersten. You’re eighteen!”

“I’m ancient.”

“You’re a kid.” I could just see him pacing on the floorboards in the kitchen. “Live. Go have a beer — and only one. Cheat death, like they didn’t. Go streaking through your dorm. Do something. Anything’s better than you staring at the damn wall like you’ve been doing for the past two years.”

“You been watching Dr. Phil?” I asked.

“Maybe.” He laughed. “The point is you have to live.”

It was the first time someone had given me permission to do exactly that. I always felt like I had to suffer because they did. How stupid, right? But the human condition is stupid. We torture ourselves in order to feel better — that’s what I was doing. Torturing myself because it wasn’t fair.

“Stop,” Uncle Jo growled.

“What?”

“Thinking.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” With a sigh he spoke low into the phone. “Sweetie, your parents would have wanted you to do things, crazy things. They took risks. You torturing yourself and being careful doesn’t protect you from the bad.”

And we get to the heart of the matter
.

I was terrified. I felt like I had to control everything. If I controlled what I ate, what I wore, how I acted, who I spoke to, I could keep myself from the same fate.

“They loved you,” he said forcefully.

Words lodged in my throat.

“They would want you to live.”

I swallowed the emotion in my throat. “But what if I don’t live? What if I die?” I could feel the darkness starting to overwhelm me. I sat on my bed and put my head between my knees. The doctor always said anxiety was a form of depression. I’d never believed him, but for the past two years anxiety and depression had been my only friends. Maybe that’s why Wes was pushing me.

“Live,” Uncle Jo rasped. “Mess up. Get arrested. Hell, get caught doing drugs.”

I laughed at his exaggeration

“I just want to know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, Uncle Jo, I promise. You know you’re the worst parent ever, right?”

He sighed and then chuckled. “Or the best, however you want to look at it.”

“You just told me to do drugs.”

Silence and then, “Don’t tell your grandma.”

“Noted.”

“Alright, kiddo.” Our time was almost up, he never talked long. He wasn’t much of a talker, so tonight was kind of a shock. “Go do something stupid.”

“Thanks, Uncle Jo, for talking.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

I hung up the phone and stared at my door. Do something stupid? Okay, fine. I was going to do something insane. Before I could change my mind I stormed out of my room and took the next few flights of stairs to Wes’s door.

My heart threatened to beat out of my chest as I knocked on the door once, twice, and then a third time.

“Hold up,” his voice called from inside.

The door swung opened. His smile grew from small to ginormous.

“I’m done with my list.”

“I know, you told me earlier.”

“I made my own.” I lifted my chin in defiance.

“Did you now?” He crossed his arms and chuckled, leaning his large muscled body against the door frame. “And what’s yours say?”

“I can’t tell you.”

His brow furrowed.

“I have to show you.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. His eyes closed just slightly as a sexy grin spread across his face. “So show me.”

Crap. I was sweating. I couldn’t punk out. Uncle Jo wanted crazy? I’d give him crazy. I stood up on my tiptoes and brushed my mouth against Wes’s. I was so nervous that my lips were actually trembling when they touched his, as soon as they made contact, I tried to pull back.

But Wes grabbed my chin between his fingers and pulled my face closer to his. “I have a list too, you know.”

“Do you?” It was hard to breathe with him so close to me.

“Yup.” His lips brushed mine again and I felt his tongue push against the seam of my lips as if trying to break down my defenses, but I knew, the minute I opened up to him, I wouldn’t be able to push him away anymore, and that scared the hell out of me.

“Open.” He nipped at the corner of my mouth. “I won’t hurt you.”

But he already was, every moment spent in his presence was like getting a bucket of cold water thrown on me repeatedly. I didn’t know what to believe or if I could trust him. Could you trust someone so beautiful? So talented? So perfect?

His hands moved from my chin to my shoulders and then ran down my arms causing chills to move across my body.

Wes blew slightly across my mouth. I gasped. And all was lost. He crushed his mouth to mine, his tongue massaging and tasting. I whimpered, he moaned low in his throat as his hands moved around my neck.

Next thing I knew, I was in his room, the door was slammed behind us and his hands were resting at my hips. I rocked toward him, not really knowing what I wanted, but needing to be closer to him.

Wes pulled away, his chest heaving with exertion. He swallowed, turned around, and cursed “I’m sorry.”

He was sorry? That he’d kissed me? I reached for the door, but the minute I pulled it open he pushed it closed. I was facing away from him, his breath was hot on my neck, and soon his lips followed. I closed my eyes. It felt so good, him touching me. It was so right that I wanted to scream. I’d never felt so exposed to another person. I’d never felt such an adrenaline rush as when his tongue had touched mine, or when his fingers grazed my hip bone.

“Stay,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “Stay with me.”

“In your room?”

“No. On the roof.” He chuckled in my ear. “Yes, in my room. What if I promise not to touch you?”

“Isn’t that what guys say before they seduce girls? At least in the movies?”

“Not a movie.” His fingers tapped my collarbone and then moved slowly down the front of my shirt, stopping right on my heart. “I just want to feel your heart beating. That’s all.”

Was he trying to be romantic or was he serious? His hand didn’t leave my chest, and then I felt his body humming against mine as he pulled me back against him. “Please?”

“If I get kicked out of school—”

“You won’t.” He urged. “I’m the RA. You’re in a fight with your roommate. I’m protecting your honor, all that stuff.”

“Except my roommate kicks ass, you want to
steal
my honor, and you’re a playboy.”

“Playboy?” He removed his hand. “I guess so, but not with you.”

“Yeah, so I’m different, huh? How many times have you told that to girls in the last twenty years?”

“It started when I was eight…” He began.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

“Seriously.” He turned me so I was facing him. “I’m not gonna lie. I want you. I want you so freaking bad that I’m pretty sure when I get to heaven I’m going to be sainted.”

My eyes narrowed.

“Things just…” He cursed and ran his fingers through his dark blond hair. “Things just feel better with you around. More complete. Does that make sense?”

“I guess.” I wasn’t ready to admit to him that I was falling hard and fast. I mean I’d known him, what? Two days?

“Besides…” He sighed. “You came to my room, remember?”

“My uncle said to do something crazy.”

He held up his hands. “Anytime you feel the urge, I’m here. In fact, I may have to remind you of this conversation every five minutes or so, hope you don’t mind.”

“Thanks.” I gulped and shoved my hands into my pockets.

“So, we should sleep.”

“What? No painting each others nails and wearing face masks?” I joked.

He threw his head back and laughed. “Well, it’d probably get my focus off of tossing you against the wall and taking every last shred of your innocence. So yeah, maybe I should paint your nails, then I can imagine that you’re not standing in front of me with swollen lips and tousled red hair. Damn, I love your hair.” He reached for a few pieces and sighed.

“Maybe this is a bad idea.” I started backing away.

Wes grabbed my hand. “Good. I like bad ideas, they make me feel alive.”

“And you need to feel more alive then you already do?”

His face fell. He looked down at the ground and whispered, “You have no idea.”