Chapter 6

Some say life is what you make it. I disagree. I see life as like a game of cards, and you can’t help getting dealt a crappy hand. All my life, it seems like I’ve been dealt a crappy hand. The only good hand I was dealt was meeting Colton and becoming friends. But even that hand had turned shitty when he left me.

After all, they also say all good things come to an end. And I guess they do from my personal experiences at least. So how could I expect or hope that letting Riley into my life would be any different? The simple answer is I couldn’t. So, why was I meeting him now at the park? I’m an idiot, simple as that. I look up from the ground and see him come into sight, his face lighting up with his picture-perfect smile. He sits down beside me on the bench when he reaches me.

“You actually came,” he says, sounding surprised but satisfied.

“Well, I figured I have nothing else to do, so why not?” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.

“Of course. It would be too much to expect you to come because you actually want to hang out with me,” he says sarcastically with a shake of his head, his smile still on his face showing that he wasn’t bothered by my words or didn’t actually believe them.

“Indeed,” I agree, fighting back my own smile. He grabs my hand and tilts my chin up so that I’m looking into his eyes.

“I just want you to know I don’t plan on hurting you. I mean it. I really don’t. I’m not going to make any promises because there are some things you just can’t help, but I will try with everything in me not to.”

His voice and gaze are filled with so much sincerity that it makes my heart clench, and my stomach tie into knots. My breath catches in my throat. I look away from him and into the treetops trying to calm my racing heart. What was I doing here? The only thing I am accomplishing is making things a hundred times harder for myself.

“So, you’re saying you’re different?” I ask him, my voice taking on a dead tone.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Then you’re not. You’re just like every other guy.”

“How?” he asks, confusion morphing his face from the sincerity that was displayed there only seconds ago.

“They all say they’re different. So, you’re really just like all of them.”

“The difference between them and me is that I actually mean it. I’m not trying to get into your pants, just your life. But, if words aren’t good enough for you, I understand. I’ll be more than happy and willing to prove it with my actions instead.”

I smile at that. I can’t help it. The more I hang out with Riley, the more I like him. I’m still not decided on what his motives are or why he’s developed such a determined decision to be a part of my life. I’m constantly finding myself more comfortable and at ease with him, as well as wanting to open up more with him. I know it’s reckless of me and that I need to stop it. But I keep finding it more difficult to do what I know I should, and keep finding myself around him more and more.

“Why are you so determined to be in it?” I ask him, my eyes searching his face for answers and any possible indication that I shouldn’t trust him.

“Because I see you for who you really are, not the girl you pretend to be to protect yourself, and not who you think you are. I think we could help each other a lot.”

“What do you need help with? You’re perfect and you seem to have a perfect life,” I scoff at him, shaking my head at the idea of him needing anyone or their help.

“I don’t. Trust me,” he answers, his voice turning somber and getting an edge to it.

“Oh, really? How so?” I ask, my voice laced with a challenge and disbelief. He looks away for a moment, chewing his lip. When he looks back at me, there’s an intensity and pain in his eyes that I haven’t seen before. I feel a pang of guilt for making him feel that way.

“You told me about Colton or at least enough to where I was able to piece other parts together. So, I guess it’s only fair that I tell you about Jay,” he tells me, his voice quiet and still somber.

“Who is Jay?”

“My brother.”

“I didn’t know you had any siblings,” I say shocked. “What happened?”

“When he was 16, he got mixed up in the wrong crowd. He started doing drugs, partying at all hours, getting into gang fights, and pretty much anything else you could possibly imagine. I was 12 at the time. I had always looked up to him, and then it was like he disappeared. He was always out with his new friends.

When he was home, he and my mom argued constantly. She disapproved of his new friends and habits. The more they fought, the worse it got. One night, while he was out, she decided to search his room. She found all sorts of things in there: pot, coke, vodka, guns, knives, and a shit ton of other things.

When he got home, she confronted him. They fought for hours, and then he hit her. He slung her across the room, slapped her face, and kicked her stomach. I stood at the entrance of the room screaming, knowing I was too small, and he was too strong for me to even hope to help. She just kept screaming and crying for me to leave because she didn’t want me to see.

When he finally stopped, he turned to me and, when I looked into his eyes, all I could see was this wild craziness shining in them. Without saying anything to me, he left not as my brother, but as a stranger. She ended up having to go to the hospital and get treated for internal bleeding and a couple of broken ribs. She also had a black eye, bruises all over her body, and a gash on her head that needed stitches. Even with him doing all of that to her, she still protected him by telling the hospital that she was in a car accident,” he said, bitterly laughing and shaking his head when he said the last part before continuing.

“From then on, my mother no longer questioned or scolded him out of fear of what he would do to her if she did. Instead, we both waited for the day Jay wouldn’t return, or the police called to let us know he had been arrested. I used to sit outside of her door, listening to her soft whimpers and wishing there was something I could do to help her.”

“Where was your father?” I ask, holding back my disgust at what he was put through. His eyes had glazed over and taken on a dark and pained look like he was reliving it all while he told me everything.

“He died when I was seven from alcohol poisoning,” he answered.

I feel my chest tighten at his words. He had been through more than I could have ever imagined and still manages to be a bright light in a dim world. My heart aches for him. I want to take away his pain and make him forget the horrible things he’s seen and been forced to live through. Before I realize what I’m doing, I grab his hand and squeeze it. He seems to snap himself back to reality when I do this and brings his gaze back to mine, giving me a small smile.

“Where is Jay now?” I ask him quietly, almost scared to know.

“Prison. He got caught selling drugs and he got into a huge gang fight that ended with three people dead.”

I don’t say anything, not knowing what to say as I feel my eyes widen in shock at the revelation. I don’t think there’s anything suitable enough for me to say. I just keep my hand on his and hope that it gives him some comfort.

“I try to be a good guy for my mom. She deserves the best after what he put her through. I try to make it to where she knows she doesn’t have to worry about me, where I’ve been, what I’ve been up to, and if I’ve been killed or arrested,” he tells me, his eyes holding mine and showing me all of his pain and struggles.

I realize that knowing all of this about his past makes me feel like it’s safe for me to let down my defenses with him. He knows and understands pain more than anyone I’ve known before. He’s seen things no kid should have to see. He feels things deeply and to the core, unlike most people our age. I feel shallow for previously judging what he shows to the world and treating him the way that I have. Even though I didn’t do it to be shallow and only did it to protect myself because I’m scared of him and how vulnerable he makes me feel.

“Have you seen him since everything happened?” I ask him.

He shakes his head quickly and gets a look of disgust on his face before saying, “No. My mom went a few times in the beginning until he kept making it clear that he didn’t want to see her and treated her badly. But I never wanted to or cared about seeing him in my life again after what he turned into. I hope he rots.”

His voice was filled with such deadly anger that it shook me to my core. I’m so used to seeing him happy and carefree. I’ve never seen him so angry, not even the two times that I had managed to get a rise out of him. It was heartbreaking and unsettling all at the same time. I nudge his arm with mine and get him to meet my eyes again.

“You’re amazing, you know that? You’re completely different than what I thought you would be,” I tell him, giving him a small smile.

“Who did you think I would be?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and smirking at me.

“A conceited jerk.”

“Hey, I can’t help that I’m gorgeous,” he says, holding his hands up in mock offense and laughing. I roll my eyes at him and smile.

“So, your dad was an alcoholic. Was he always like that?”

His smile disappears and he looks down at the ground. I could beat myself for getting rid of his smile. He’s silent for a long time, so long that I think he’s not going to answer. I wouldn’t blame him. It’s not like I have been as open with him as he has been with me.

“Not always. But I was so young when he started that I don’t remember a lot from the time that he wasn’t. I thought it was normal until I started noticing my mom begging him to stop and heard other kids talking about their parents.”

I study him as he talks. His blonde hair is even more stylishly messy today, hanging over his eyes. His strong jaws were clenched and his eyes looked haunted. He was so beautiful and pure. He never deserved the life that he had been dealt. But he took it, and still turned out to be strong and who he is now. It amazes me just to think about and realize.

“Hey, you okay?” I gently ask him.

He shakes himself and nods, then smiles at me and says, “Yeah, I’m fine. You know you’re the only one who hasn’t said sorry about my dad or the rest of it?” He looks at me, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

“Would it help if I said it?”

“No. And it gets old hearing it. It won’t bring him back or undo anything that was done.”

“I guess we could use each other,” I say, my eyes scanning the park before looking back at him.

He smiles, tilts his head to the side, meets my eyes, and says, “You think?”

“Yeah,” I say, letting out a breath.

“I never told you the other day, but I like this look on you better. It fits you,” he tells me, his eyes roaming over my black outfit before coming back to my eyes. I feel my face break out into a smile, shocked that he’d even noticed.

“It is more me, huh? The outfit the other day was solely for my mom’s benefit. I figured it would cheer her up and get her off of my back a little.”

“Natalie,” he says, taking on his serious tone again and the intensity back in his eyes. “Don’t change. You’re perfect the way you are.”

**************

Hanging out with Riley today made me realize a lot. He’s been through more than I would have ever imagined, and he’s still turning out to be amazing. He hasn’t let his past stop him or hold him back from living the present. He hasn’t let it beat him down. I only wish I was as strong as him.

Maybe I do need him. He seems to make me feel better, stronger. Although, I don’t see why he would ever in a million years feel like he needs me. Even with all that he’s seen and lived through, he seems to be doing just fine without me. So, why is he suddenly convinced that we could help each other when he doesn’t appear to need help at all?

It’s not like he doesn’t have friends. He can and does get along with anyone that crosses his path. He’s smart and does great in his classes, not that I’d be of much help in that area either way. I don’t understand in the slightest. But I know it’s too late for me to run and I’ve already been pulled in too deep, deeper than I ever intended to allow. Now I’m stuck riding this out and hoping it doesn’t end badly for me.

“Natalie, I’m home!” I hear my mom yell as she throws her keys onto a nearby table.

At the sound of her voice, the therapist comes rushing back to the forefront of my mind, reigniting every ounce of anger that I had felt. I jump up off of my bed, leave my room, and run down the stairs. We meet at the bottom, and I stay on the first step, blocking her way up.

“Did you get the therapist to go to my school?” I ask her, watching as the guilty shock registers on her face and confirms my thoughts before she does.

“I may have spoken to her...” she says, fiddling with her clothes and avoiding looking at me.

“Why? I’m better now. I thought you knew that,” I say, betrayal and anger coating every word out of my mouth.

“This happened before the morning that you pulled a 180 and came down here happy and yourself again.”

“You couldn’t call and tell her? Do you have any idea how violating it felt for her to just show up and pull me out of my class?”

She sighs and rubs her hands down her face before saying, “I honestly didn’t think about it, Natalie. I was just so happy to see you like that for the first time in half a year that my conversation with her completely slipped my mind. But maybe it’s not a bad thing. Maybe it can still help.”

“I don’t need any help. I’m fine,” I angrily and forcefully reply.

“I’m not saying you’re not. All I’m saying is it wouldn’t hurt.”

“It would be a waste of my time and your money.”

“My money isn’t wasted if it’s spent on helping you.”

“For the last time, I don’t need help. Forget it. I’m not doing it,” I say through gritted teeth, then storm past her and out of the front door.

It’s freezing outside now and I forgot my jacket. But I keep walking to a destination that I haven’t decided on just yet. I don’t want to go back in and risk having to hear anything else she has to say right now and it would definitely ruin the point of my storming out. After a while, I end up at an empty diner and I find a table in a back corner. I rub my arms with my hands and try to warm up as much as possible.

“Are you ready to order?”a deep, velvety, masculine voice lazily asks, startling me enough that I have to force myself not to jump in the turquoise leather booth seat.

I peer up to find a tall guy around my age standing and leaning his leg against the opposite corner of my table with an aloof air, staring down at the notepad in his hand and waiting for me to answer. He doesn't even bother to glance at me but I still catch the light reflecting off of his gray eyes, hooded by his midnight black hair hanging over them. His baby blue t-shirt displays the diner’s name, stretching and straining over his toned muscles. My eyes continue their path down, still holding my breath, and notice chains hanging from the belt loops and over the pockets of his black jeans. His body is the definition of lethal power and his appearance is the definition of insurmountable and incomparable beauty. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and I blink, realizing he’s still waiting to take my order. I’ve never been so grateful to not be one of those people that turn red from embarrassment, because it would be happening way too much for my liking lately if I were.

“Hot chocolate,” I quietly tell him, spitting out the first warm thing that pops into my head while averting my gaze to the glossy white surface of the table.

He clicks his pen closed with a curt nod and walks back behind the bar, still not bothering to look in my direction. I tear my eyes away from the muscles shifting in his back underneath the thin fabric of the t-shirt and look out the window, taking in the surroundings that I had been too cold to pay attention to on my way here. A vast and great view of the ocean spreads out across the road of one of the less forgotten beaches. I’ve only been there once or twice, preferring the beach where my coveted cave resides.

The guy gently sits my hot chocolate and bill in front of me and is already walking away before I can look all the way over to him as if I'm the plague or he's never heard of how to provide warm customer service. Rolling my eyes at his back, I wrap my hands around the mug and relish in the warmth before taking a sip. The hot drink is thick and creamy as it slides down my throat and sends warmth flooding through my body, making me shiver pleasently. I shift my attention from the brown liquid warming the mug in my pale hands and fix my eyes on diner guy once again, unable to stop myself when I hear the deep richness of his voice again. He’s talking to an older woman who I assume has probably worked here all of her adult life.

“How’s your mom doing?” she asks him.

“Alright, I guess. Just stressed about everything with the bills, work, and grandpa. He’s gotten worse. He’s having to be watched constantly now. My dad’s working overtime, and so is mom. But with the bills for the house and grandpa’s hospital bills, we’re barely making it right now. I’ve been trying to help by giving them what I make, but you know how that is,” he sighs.

“Don’t worry. Everything will work itself out.”

“I guess we’ll see,” he replies to her, shrugging carelessly, appearing unbothered.

“How is school? Any lucky girl catching your eye?” she asks, quickly changing the subject and winking at him.

“No," he answers firmly, shooting her a hard look. "I just keep to myself.”

“Now why would you go and do a thing like that? You shouldn’t have any problem getting a girl, especially with your looks.”

He raises an eyebrow at her in response, his mouth tightening into a stern line but twitches just slightly enough for me to catch it. I can tell they know each other well enough just from how she seems to understand exactly what he’s saying with the gesture. She raises her hands in defense before continuing.

“Okay, okay," she relents. "I think you dress a little too dark, and you should get a haircut so you can look like a nice young man instead of such a wild troublemaker. But I thought that’s what is popular with kids your age right now.”

He shakes his head at her and I spy a ghost of a smirk start to show from what I think is amusement. “No, it’s not." A trace of laughter tinges his voice, then returns to absolute severity. "And none of them are what I would consider my type."

She scoffs. "Your type is being alone all of your life."

He flashes her a grin and nods in agreement. "Well, like you, they all think I’m too dark or scary." He tilts his head and contemplates something, his shadow gray eyes moving from her to the surface of the bar. "There are a few who are drawn to the darkness and mystery, though,” he admits in a teasing but truthful manner with a mischievous smirk. “Then there are the best ones yet. My favorites." His voice is dripping with sarcasm now as he rolls his eyes. "The ones who want to use me to scare their dads or get revenge against them. Or maybe have some fantasy built up in their heads about what it would be like to either end up with me or with the story of a lifetime that they can spend the rest of their time telling.”

“How could they think you’re scary when you’re such a sweetheart?” she asks with genuine shock.

He gives her a disbelieving look and shake of his head. “I don’t care. Everyone makes me cringe, anyway." Then a mischievous grin curves his lips and he slices his eyes back to her, briefly widening them. The look has me drinking more of my hot chocolate to distract myself with its heat instead of his. "And maybe that’s just what I make you think."

“Connor, you’re such a mess,” the woman says, shaking her head as she wipes a towel around the surface of the bar in circles. “You should let someone into your heart besides your family and me. You’re only young for a little while. Enjoy it while you can. You'll have enough time to be alone and broody when you're an old man.”

He frowns at her, his eyebrows drawn together, and shakes his head again in response.

“Don’t give me that. You should have fun and go out with girls,” she chides him.

“Find me a girl worth letting in and I’ll think about it. I doubt you will. It’s impossible for me to open up and like someone. Haven’t experienced it yet,” he tells her, his face and voice showing how uninterested in the topic and finished with it he is.

“That’s not news to me. But it's not a good way to be at all.”

“I think I’m doing just fine,” he says, brushing off her statement with a grimace.

I watch as he bends down behind the bar and grabs something, then comes from behind the counter. A skateboard flashes across my line of sight as he throws it to the ground and starts idly doing tricks on it, clearly done with her meddling. My eyes follow him closely, watching him perform every trick like the skateboard is an extension of his body.

“Connor! What have I told you about skating in the diner?” the woman scolds, trying her best to look stern. I can tell just by looking at her how much she adores him. Her eyes shine with motherly affection and love.

“What? She’s the only one here,” he argues, waving her off. Then he finally and unexpectedly slides his gaze to me, his eyes meeting mine and piercing through me as he catches me so obviously watching him already. But I get so caught up in his eyes on mine that I don't take a second to feel the mortification I normally would have. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asks me mildly, as if it's just a formality and not changing anything.

I internally shake myself out of my trance, hoping I don’t look like a complete idiot, and rapidly shake my head. “Uh, no."

Those gray eyes flicker with a spark as he turns back to the woman and waves her off. “See? It’s fine.”

He returns to performing his tricks, then begins to skate around the tables. I continue watching him while I finish my hot chocolate then get my money out to pay. Remembering the conversation about how hard his family is having it, I lay the 50 dollars my mom had given me on the table for the tip. I check my phone and see I’ve been here for an hour already without realizing it. I take the payment for the hot chocolate to the woman, faintly returning her warming smile with my own small, tight one that resembles more of a grimace than an actual smile, then begrudgingly begin the freezing walk home- already missing the warmth of the hot chocolate and diner.