“I’m sorry,” I say to Mr. Williams.

  He walks over to me steadily, reaching his palm out then snapping once when he stops right in front of the bass drum. I lift my arms and place both sticks in his palms. He pulls them back with a snap and glares at me.

  “It’s that Barringer kid,” he says, pointing his finger before turning and moving back to the front of our classroom.

  I laugh lightly because that Barringer kid is only a fraction of what that was. He’s the good part. Fuck, he’s the only reason I made it to school today.

  The drums felt good.

  Chapter Eighteen

  There was nothing but a card sitting on the center of the kitchen table.

  It didn’t need explanation.

  I recognized the name, which was full of ironies in and of itself.

  DR. THOMAS P. LOWELL — PSYCHOLOGY

  My parents were working together at the store. It was a rare thing. They were avoiding me. Or maybe…maybe they just wanted me to have my time on my own to take in the words on this card and decide if I needed to call the number that went along with them.

  I stuff it in my pocket and tie my flannel around my waist, grabbing a beef stick from my dad’s secret stash of jerky on my way out the door. Rehearsals are not for three hours. That’s three hours I can be with Jesse.

  My walk is cut short by the familiar truck in the driveway.

  “Shit,” I mouth to myself, turning around and taking a few steps back to my house. I stop and retrace them, pausing in the same place I halted before.

  Alton is here.

  I pull my phone out and hover over Jesse’s name to send him a text. I don’t know what to say. I switch to the call screen and I press the call icon before I can chicken out. I start walking toward his house as it rings. Seven rings in and I get his voicemail.

  “Speak,” that’s all he says. So professional. I hit the icon to call again. It rings until I get to his door, and before I can hang up, the door opens and Alton steps out, bumping into me.

  “Oh…hey…sorry…” He’s both startled and confident, as if coming out of this house is a thing he should be doing. My eyes bounce to Jesse’s. He isn’t smiling. This wasn’t a welcome visit. But it wasn’t hostile either. It was…business, maybe?

  “You must be…” Alton scratches at his face, rough skin marked by rough living. He looks to Jesse.

  “Arizona,” Jesse says. His expression is guarded but also guilty.

  “Yes!” Alton snaps and points at me, reaching out his hand. “Arizona. The drummer. Nice to meet you.”

  I look to Jesse for advice on what to do, but his face is too hard to read. I default to polite and shake Alton’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you.” I’m sure people follow it up with things like “I like that song of yours” or “I’m a big fan.” He’s lucky I said the word nice.

  “So we’ll take care of this Friday. I’ll be there…” Aton says, stepping around me and pointing to his son next. It’s slimy. I don’t trust him. Jesse shouldn’t trust him.

  “Friday,” Jesse confirms.

  His dad grins as he walks away backward, then shakes his spindly finger at me again before getting in his truck.

  “Arizona. Like the state. Cool name,” he says. I roll my eyes. He can’t see me.

  I wait until his truck door closes before I speak.

  “You all right?” I ask.

  Jesse doesn’t answer, so I turn and step into him. He welcomes me with arms that wrap around me and lips that fall on top of my head. He backs away and lets his front door shut behind me.

  “What was that about?” I ask.

  “He knows I called his guy. He was just excited. He said he’s gonna be there with the guy Friday, but whatever. I told him come if he wants.”

  His eye contact with me is sporadic. I know this move; it’s so I won’t read his face. I reach up and press my palm to his cheek, forcing his gaze to mine. He fights it at first, but eventually we sync up.

  “Really…it’s fine.” He’s lying. I let him.

  I step up on my toes and press my lips to his and sink back to the ground, our eyes still connected.

  “Okay,” I breathe.

  He leans forward so our heads rest together and he tucks his hands in the back pockets of my jeans, pulling my hips toward him. He rocks me back and forth a little, a coy smirk on his face.

  “We gonna talk about you?” His voice matches his sway.

  I sink into his eyes and live there for a little while. I’m not sure what he knows. I pull Dr. Lowell’s card from my pocket and push it in his palm. He backs up a step to look at it, and chuckles at the amazing coincidence.

  “You spying on me or something?” He teases. I push at his chest.

  “No. My parents left it for me…to…I don’t know really.” I take it back from him and run my thumb over the embossed name.

  “He’s good.”

  I look up to his eyes and he shrugs.

  “It’s true. He is. He’s helped me some.”

  “That why you skipped going the other day?” I call him out on my suspicion from earlier and he gets bashful—caught.

  “Yeah, well…me skipping is exactly the reason I need to be going to a guy like him.” He rolls his tongue in his mouth, and I see the hesitation. I ready myself to get real. “This about your sister?”

  Even prepared, the topic levels my chest. My stomach plummets with the sensation of the towering rollercoaster drop.

  “Hey…it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, tipping my chin up. My body instantly sweats and I must look faint. I feel faint.

  I shake my head a little and squeeze my eyes.

  “Can we sit down or chill or something until the guys get here?”

  He nods at me and links our hands, leading me up the stairs to his room. Music is playing from a small speaker tucked on his bookcase. It’s loaded with music books. A fake candle casts a vanilla glow in the room. I slide into his bed, making room to encourage him to lay with me. He does, but instead of climbing above me and pressing his mouth to mine, he stays back, ready to listen.

  The roller coaster drops again.

  “You want to share truths?” he asks.

  I wince because yes…and no.

  “Maybe,” I say.

  He chuckles and adjusts his head on his arm, tucking his pillow under his cheek. He reaches up and moves my hair away from my face, then drags the back of his fingers along my arm, toying with the hem of my sleeve. He’s avoiding my eyes again. I let him.

  “I want to be excited about this producer guy, but my dad is a partner with him in this. He’s coming with him to our show, and honestly…I’m afraid he’s going to fuck me over.” His eyes drag up to mine and stop there. Raw and full of truth, his expression is the physical version of the way my insides feel.

  “So that’s it. I hate that I was tolerant of him tonight. I hate that when he called an hour ago, I answered the phone. I hate that he shook your hand. I hate him, but I’m willing to sell it all out for some shot at something...and you know what?”

  “What?” I take his hand in mine and knot our palms together. I don’t know if I feel his heartbeat or mine.

  He chews at his lip, pausing. I bring his hand to my mouth and kiss it.

  “I don’t think I deserve any of this. So, if it all gets fucked up, then maybe that’s just who I am.” His shoulders twitch with a small shrug and his eyes drift again.

  He truly believes this.

  I scoot closer and kiss him, holding my lips to his long enough to stun him. I run my nose along his and feel the tickle of his lashes against my own.

  “Uh-uh,” I whisper.

  “No?” he answers, bringing his hand to my face and wrapping his fingers around my hair.

  “No,” I echo. I grab the collar of his shirt in my fist and kiss him again, a little deeper, holding the taste of his tongue against mine.

  Our kiss lingers and eventually turns into me lying against his chest. I practice saying the words before they come out while our fingers twine and flirt. I still haven’t really said the truth out loud. There are so many steps toward acceptance, and the fact that my parents are so eager to go back to pretending makes it easy for me to as well.

  “Me and Ella…” I stop there. My heartbeat picks up and my tongue feels fat.

  “It’s okay,” Jesse says, his voice low and gravely. He wraps his fingers around my wrist until his thumb touches their tips, cuffing me like a bracelet. He holds it there for a second, then runs his thumb along my vein with a feather-light trace that curls my fingers. I try to ride the comfort of his touch for long enough to say it all so it can be heard.

  “I’m the one who dove into the lake.”

  Jesse’s stroke stops, just for a blip. I feel it, and I start to pull away. His muscles tighten and his thumb begins to travel along the soft skin of my arm again. Every bit of my body is tense. I want to run, but I can’t outrun words.

  Jesse’s head turns until his lips are at my ear. “We all have lakes we dive into sometimes.”

  He’s being symbolic. I get it, and I adore him for it. But I’ve lived my life with one story. There are so many holes remaining in the real one, too. My memory is spotty, and the people who could help me fill in the dashes are still holding erasers of their own.

  “She was always the one who was…” I can’t say it. I’m ashamed that I can’t.

  “We all have lakes we dive into sometimes,” Jesse repeats. This time he shifts his body and moves his hands to my face, aligning my gaze to his.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean, but…”

  He shakes his head.

  “You don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t still be protesting. Ari, you aren’t broken.”

  I swallow at that word. I swallow because I am. I feel very, very broken.

  “My sister can’t sleep without this one blanket. It’s an obsession, and it’s not something sentimental. She needs it, like as in…my mom had to track it down at a Goodwill after we accidentally donated it once. AmberLynn has tried to be a part of half a dozen different things—dance, soccer, art. She finds something to obsess on with everything she does. Skating makes her focus on her balance, and it keeps her from counting dumb lines in the ice and worrying about the way her laces overlap or how one is longer than the other. Her OCD is her lake.”

  I nod, my brow marked by a deep divot. I don’t like that his sister has to live with that. It’s not fair.

  “I am so hyped up on my own chemistry sometimes that the world around me literally vibrates. The air turns bright pink, voices pierce my ears, and the only way I can stay ahead of it is to kick and scream. And then sometimes it all just stops, and a light goes off. I don’t know what I hate more—the dark or the bright white light that’s so vivid it burns my eyes.”

  I blink away the threat of tears. I don’t want to wallow in this feeling, but I can’t seem to stop fighting it.

  “I’ve been on meds as long as I can remember. I just thought it was PTSD from Ella. I always thought that maybe one day I could stop taking them, that I wouldn’t need them anymore…”

  “And now you feel like you’re serving a life sentence,” Jesse finishes for me. He’s so spot on that it makes my insides rush with a dose of natural morphine.

  “Yes!” I grip his shirt and tug on it.

  “We all have lakes…” he lets the rest linger wordlessly in the air.

  We all have lakes.

  “You should call Dr. Lowell. He’s good.” Jesse’s hands have moved back to mine and he holds them to his chest while we lay buried in the fluff of his deep-gray comforter in the dim light of his room, the scent of incense masking the hint in the air that he lit a joint in here an hour or so before.

  “Okay,” I agree. I mean it, too.

  I snuggle in against his body more and listen to the way his heart strikes high then low. It’s so steady.

  “You aren’t telling your mom about Alton, are you?” My question comes out strangely, accusatory. I fix it. “I don’t think you should, is what I mean…”

  Jesse shakes his head, lips pulled in tight. He tucks his chin to look at me.

  “I knew Conner and AmberLynn would still be gone. And my mom had some appointments. That’s why he came now.”

  I nod. I want this to work out for Jesse. I have so much apprehension though.

  “Let’s maybe talk about something else,” Jesse chuckles. He nuzzles his nose along my cheek. “Alton’s a bit of a buzzkill.”

  I laugh with him lightly and move my body so my leg is resting over his waist. His body is always so warm. It’s finally feeling cool outside. I fantasize about running away with him to some cabin with one of those fireplaces made of large stones and wood floors and nothing but furry blankets.

  Jesse must be having similar fantasies because the light tickle of his hand along my side has skimmed higher up my shirt and his hand is now flirting with the curve of my breast.

  “You know, your room really is a far more suitable place…” I flit my eyes up to him and temper my smile. His gaze intensifies, and the movement of his hand becomes bolder.

  “I think losing your virginity twice is a definite thing,” he says, his voice an octave lower than it was before. He turns his body, taking mine along with it until I’m pinned beneath him. I feel every bit of him hard and pressing into the inside of my thigh.

  He dips his head lower and grabs the bottom of my shirt with his teeth, stopping when he’s moved the cotton up over the lace of my bra. He nips at my breast through the fabric and I push my body up into him with an arch.

  His hands work my shirt up over my face, taking my arms up with it, and he twists it around my wrists as he holds my hands tethered for just a moment. I shiver, an instant chill passing over my body, and my knees pull up on either side of him while my toes curl in my shoes.

  Jesse’s hair flops over one eye and I unfurl my hands from my shirt, bringing them to his head, weaving my fingers into his thick waves as his eyes peer up at me and his lips grow closer to my breast again. He leaves a trail of kisses along the lace trim of my bra while his hands slowly peel the straps from my shoulders, then drag the cups down until I’m bare and exposed. His tongue makes slow circles around each of my peaks while I arch enough for him to unhook the bra behind my back.

  He tosses it to the floor when it’s finally free, then runs his hands up the length of my arms until our fingers are woven together on his pillow above my head. His hair cascades around us when his head falls to meet mine and he bites at my upper lip, catching it in his teeth and sneering with an animalistic heat I feel deep inside.

  When he lets go of my hands again, I gather up the bottom of his black T-shirt and pull it up and over his head quickly, anxious to feel his skin against mine again. He rests his weight on me, and I wish he could crush me into the bed so I could be closer to him. It feels so safe here under his chest, his hands working their way down my sides to my hips. I kick my shoes free from my feet and wrap my legs around him, squeezing him to me as his fingers curl into the back of my jeans and jerk me up into him.

  “I want you so fucking bad,” he growls. This side of him turns me on, and my body responds.

  “Okay,” I breathe out, bending to the form of him. He falls back to his knees and slides his hands down my tummy to the button of my jeans, unsnapping it quickly and grabbing my panties and jeans together to lift and drag them down my legs. I pull my legs up high and let him free me of my clothes completely. The shyness I felt the first time is dimmer now.

  “Goddamn where did you come from?” He says, running his open mouth along the side of my leg as he holds them together up over his shoulder. He parts them slow, until I’m open to him with my knees around his hips.

  Jesse puts his thumb in his mouth, making it wet, then guides his hands up the insides of my thighs, pushing them open to him even more. His thumb dips inside me and I whimper, bringing my own fingers to my mouth to bite at my knuckles. I’m so swollen and desperate for him to touch me more, and when his fingers leave my center I hunger to chase after him.

  I keep my eyes closed tight, one arm over my face, shielding me so I can experience the thrill of surprise. I hold my other hand’s knuckle in-between my teeth. I feel Jesse’s weight shift on the bed, followed by the sound of his shoes tumbling along the floor and his zipper coming down. I brace myself to feel the stretch of his penetration, but a soft warmth lands on me first. He sucks and I realize that he’s kissing me in my most intimate places.

  “You taste sweet,” he says, suckling my pink skin hard enough that it begins to burn. I like the hurt of it and my hips buck when his mouth leaves me.

  “You like that,” he chuckles.

  “Mmmm hmmmm,” I groan, rolling my hips with need.

  Jesse’s hands crawl up my body—inch by inch up my ribs, until each hand cups the fullness of my breast and his thumbs find the hard peaks. His chin tickles between my legs, and just as his tongue draws a slow line, his thumbs and fingers pinch my tips with a sweet pressure that renders me numb everywhere but those two tiny spots.

  “Oh…oh…” I feel the wave tempt me below and my knees draw in, squeezing him.

  “You can have this. Go on, take it, Ari…” Jesse lets his lips linger on my sensitive skin, blowing first before a slow lick that circles and grows with speed until it becomes a constant flick that pushes me over the edge.

  “Yes,” I eek out the word. Repeating it with the mounting pressure that threatens to explode between my legs and when I can’t take it anymore, Jesse covers me completely with his mouth and sucks while I throb and writhe beneath him.

  His tongue rolls over my skin over and over until every pulse has had its chance to pummel me. I feel tingly down there, raw, but nowhere near ready to not feel more of him. My fingers comb at his hair, urging him to kiss his way up my tummy and chest and neck until the sweetness of his lips hovers over my own.