Chapter 15: Christmas Eve

Author's Note: This chapter is important for laying the groundwork about what's to come. For those of you here for drama, angst, and smut, stay tuned. The next few chapters are full of it and I'll post them tomorrow :)

RINA'S POV

TEN YEARS PRIOR

On Christmas Eve, Chet had to work. He worked as a literary agent, and muttered something about a last minute crisis with a manuscript as he left the house that morning. Quite frankly, I think he just wanted an excuse to leave. Workaholic was an understatement with my foster father. He was hardly ever home, and I wasn't sure if that was normal, or if this was a recent development pertaining to my presence in the house.

Now that it was nearly Christmas, things felt even more tense. I never knew how to act around the holidays in foster care. It didn't feel right to expect my foster parents to include me in their festivities, but I still hoped they would. It wasn't even about presents. I just wanted to feel a sense of belonging. But I rarely did. To me, it was just another day.

I spent much of that morning in my bedroom, reading a book and trying to make myself scarce. At two p.m., though, my stomach was growling and it was too distracting to keep reading. I came downstairs to see Monica in the living room, arranging meticulously wrapped gifts underneath the extravagantly decorated Christmas tree. She looked up from her work when she heard me coming downstairs.

"Hi Sweet Pea," she said, her voice unusually cheerful. She'd been so solemn lately, and I hadn't heard her use that nickname in months.

"Hey there," I said back, trying not to let the surprise I felt leak into my voice. "I was just coming down for lunch."

"Do you want me to make you something?" She asked, standing up and wiping her hands on her green slacks.

"Oh, no, that's okay. I can just make a PB&J. No big deal."

"Rina, it's Christmas Eve, for God's sake. Come on, I made gingerbread cookies. You can munch on those while I make you a flatbread pizza." She didn't wait for me to answer before she turned towards the kitchen, her heeled boots squeaking against the floorboards.

After I finished eating, I stayed in the kitchen and emptied the dishwasher as Monica started peeling potatoes.

"How did your midterms go?" She asked, her voice light and airy.

"Fine, I think. I'm a little worried about calculus but I did the extra credit assignment just in case."

"You'll be fine. You always are. Have you started thinking about college yet? Those applications are probably due in a few months."

"I had a meeting with my guidance counselor about it. She thinks I have a shot at a scholarship at a few state schools if I apply soon. I've been saving up my allowance to pay for the applications, so I'll submit them as soon as I finish writing my essays."

"Oh, honey, you aren't paying for those application fees with your allowance. That's supposed to be for fun stuff. Chet and I will pay for the application fees. You just let me know when you're ready to submit." She turned towards the trashcan, brushing scraps of potato skins off her cutting board.

"Oh, no, I could never ask you to do that," I said, tense again as I started loading the dishwasher with my dishes from lunch.

"You didn't ask. I offered. You just focus on keeping those grades high. I think you have a shot at an Ivy league with that SAT score of yours. And if not an Ivy, you could go somewhere like Vanderbilt or the University of Richmond. Have you been to Richmond? It's not far from here and their campus is stunning."

"Well, I was just going to apply to state schools. The tuition at private universities is too high."

"Rina, dear, don't worry about tuition at this stage. You don't know what kind of scholarships you might get at those schools and besides, Chet and I can help cover it."

"I appreciate that offer, I really do. But I can't let you pay for my college tuition. It's too much. And I know Chet really doesn't want me to be here anymore anyways, so I really don't want to be any more of a burden."

She looked at me suddenly, her expression aghast and she paused completely from her dinner preparations. "Why would you say something like that? Of course Chet wants you to be here. We both do."

"Well," I started, swallowing hard. I didn't know how to say it. It was like the elephant in the room between us, and it had been for months. I should have just kept my mouth shut. "I know you were both…disappointed about what happened in October. And things have been tense the last few weeks. I just don't want to cause anymore problems than I already have."

"Rina, honey, the tension between Chet and I has nothing to do with you," she admitted, looking at me like she wanted to pull me into her arms like I was a little kid. "With what happened in October, I know I should have listened to you when you said the drugs weren't yours. I just…with what happened with my other daughter," she paused, and my stomach did a flip at the use of the word other. I tried not to like it, but I did. "I should have dealt with it head on instead of ignoring the problem until it was too late. And I couldn't make the same mistake with you. Ashley would have lied if they found those drugs on her. Any kid would. I had to be sure that you weren't lying, too. I know it's not fair for me to assume you're anything like Ashley, but I've never been a perfect mom. I hope you can forgive me when I make mistakes."

"Of course," I said in a daze. "And it wasn't a mistake. I understand why you thought I was lying."

"But you weren't, and I should have known better. You're a good girl, Rina. You have a bright future ahead of you. And I hope I can be a part of it one way or another," she said, winking at me, but I could see that she was holding back tears. "I know Chet and I have been distant lately. But those are grownup problems. You haven't done anything to cause it, I promise."

I nodded, smiling softly, because I didn't know what to say. I wanted to cry too, partially out of relief and partially on Monica's behalf, because I could see that something was eating at her, but it wasn't my place to ask what grownup problems could possibly mean.

Two hours later, with nothing else to do, I decided to go for a walk. The sun was already beginning to go down—we were in that godawful part of the year where it started to set before five p.m.—but the temperature was more tolerable than usual and I couldn't let it go to waste. I called out to Monica that I was going for a walk, and that I'd have my cellphone if she needed me. I heard her muffled, "Be safe!" in response and headed out the door.

The one good thing about living in a town where everyone has more money than they knew what to do with was that there are a ton of meticulously maintained public walking trails. I started walking aimlessly along one, turning onto a new trail whenever I felt like it, and before I knew it, I ended up at a lake I recognized as backing up to Vince Ditmer's house. It looked a lot more solemn than the last time I saw it in early October, when the leaves had just started to change colors. Now the trees were bare, and the Ditmer's house was quiet and empty. I started walking along the edge of the lake, inching closer to the house, when I saw somebody sitting on the dock. I nearly turned around at that point, thinking it was Vince or a member of his family, until I saw that familiar head of chestnut curls, recognizable even hidden under his ball cap.

Easton looked up as soon as I recognized him and our eyes locked. Before I could consider my next move, he stood up and started walking in my direction.

Shit. I thought. We hadn't spoken since our conversation in the library. In fact, other than in class and the cafeteria, I'd hardly seen him and when I did, he rarely looked at me. I was beginning to think that whatever strange fixation he'd had with me was finally over. It made me equal parts relieved and sad. Because while it was nice to not feel terrorized at school anymore, sometimes Easton—when he wasn't being a terrorist—made me feel things for him that I shouldn't. I'd recently started having dreams about that kiss in the closet, and sometimes, I didn't even hit him in the end. It scared me when I woke up, but in the dream, I wasn't scared at all.

"What are you doing here?" He asked when he got closer. I searched his face for some sign that he was angry or annoyed that he'd ran into me, but there wasn't any. He just looked glum.

"I went for a walk. The paths are confusing and I just ended up here. Why are you here? Are you hanging out with Vince or something?"

"No, Vince is skiing in Aspen."

I looked at him quizzically. "Then why are you on his dock?"

"It seemed like a better idea than sitting at home by myself," he admitted, his eyes getting tight when he did, like he wished he could take it back. Easton looked surprisingly vulnerable—almost childlike—in that moment, something I'd never thought I'd see.

"Yeah, I was going stir crazy too."

He looked at me in confusion. "Monica and Chet aren't home?"

"No, they are. Well, Monica is. Chet will be home later. Where's your dad and your sister? Are they not home?"

"Hera's spending Christmas with her boyfriend's family and my dad is somewhere over the Atlantic I think. I don't know. I asked him to text me when he boarded his flight but he never did."

"But he's coming home for Christmas?" I asked.

"If his flight lands in time, yeah." He said, not looking at me. "Christmas is sort of just another day in my house anyways."

"I know the feeling," I said, thinking about Christmases with my real mom. On two separate occasions, I'd eaten crackers for Christmas dinner while my mom threw up in the kitchen sink.

"Yeah, well, I remember Monica doing Christmas big, so enjoy it," he said, shooting me a small smile.

"Thanks," I said. It dawned on me that Christmas probably sucked for him as much as it sucked for me. And, before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Do you want to come back with me? Monica would probably be excited to see you."

"Nah, I promised my dad I'd pick him up from the airport. But thank you." He wasn't looking at me again, and it seemed like he was lying, but I didn't call him on it.

"Okay, well, I should probably get back. It's getting dark. See you around?"

He nodded, and I turned to go, but then his hand reached out and caught my wrist. "Hey, Rina?"

"Yeah?" I turned back to look at him, eyebrows raised.

"I just wanted to apologize. For being a dick."

"While I agree you have been a dick, what particular instance are you apologizing for?"

"All of them, I guess. When we met, I thought you were going to ruin my life. But you didn't, even though I probably deserved it. So I wanted to say sorry. And to thank you for keeping my secret when you didn't have to."

My mouth was hanging open in shock when he finished. I didn't believe in Christmas miracles—or miracles of any kind, really—but Easton Clarke apologizing to me felt like the closest thing to one I was ever going to get.

"It's okay," I mumbled after a few seconds of staring at him like an idiot. When I didn't know what else to add, I stuttered out, "I should probably get back, though. Monica will worry."

"Can you just stay a couple minutes longer?" He asked, pulling me gently towards him. I went along easily, limp like a Raggedy Anne doll. "Sit with me on the dock?"

The part of me that still didn't trust a word out of his mouth was screaming at me to wriggle out of his grip. But the other part of me, the piece that was getting bigger with every dream I had about his mouth on mine, won out. I followed him to Vince's dock like a baby duck. It was pathetic, and I knew it was, because Easton was an asshole who had made my life hell for the better part of four months. But he was also gorgeous and I was an idiot, so I followed him back to the dock anyways.

We sat facing each other, me cross-legged and him with his legs stretched out in front of him. The sun had sunk so low in the sky by that point that it was hard to see him, even sitting just a few feet away. The evening was getting cold, the temperature dropping along with the sun. I shivered inside of my parka, digging my hands into the pockets and wishing I'd worn gloves.

"Do you come here a lot?" I asked, breaking the silence between us, and ignoring my chattering teeth.

"Sometimes when Vince's family is out of town. I like the view from here, but his sisters are annoying."

"How old?" I asked, staring at the sun setting on the far side of the lake.

"Eleven and thirteen. They won't leave me alone when I come over." I couldn't really see his face clearly in the waning light, but I could picture him rolling his eyes as he said it.

"That's cute. I had a crush on an older guy when I was that age, too."

"Yeah, and was he interested? This older guy you had a crush on?"

"God, I hope not. It'd be kind of gross if he was."

Things got quiet again. And the silence felt really heavy. I almost stood up to leave when Easton finally said, "I hope he wasn't either. I don't like the idea of other guys being interested in you."

"Why?" I asked, stunned.

"Because they don't deserve you." He said it so quietly I questioned if I'd misheard him. "Not many people do."

"Why would you say that?" I asked, shocked again. "You don't even like me."

"That's not true. I do like you. You're funny and you're smart." He stopped speaking, and it sounded like there should be a but at the end, like there was something holding him back.

"Smart, huh? So you don't think I'm trailer trash anymore?" I said airily, hoping he'd laugh to break the tension.

But he didn't. "No, I don't," was all he said.

"Well, I am, you know. I was born in a trailer. To a teenage mother who had no idea which one of her clients was my father. If that's not trash, I don't know what is."

He was quiet for another moment, like he was contemplating something. "That doesn't make you trash. It makes her trash. She didn't deserve you either."

"Yeah, well, she's in prison now and can't touch me anymore. Alls well that ends well."

"That didn't end well, Rina. She tried to sell your virginity to pay off her drug debts. That's a tragedy."

"Well, like most things in life, my mom was unsuccessful at that too, so, it's alright. Nobody touched me. Hymen is still intact. Only mildly traumatized."

Easton was silent when I finished talking and I wanted to kick myself for telling him of all people that I was virgin. It was like I couldn't help myself with him anymore. The walls I'd built around myself were beginning to crack with every conversation we had. It scared me.

"Your mom should be in a worse place than jail," he finally said, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"Well, if there is a hell, I assume that's where she's headed next. That's enough for me."

"I don't know how you think that's enough," he said lowly, standing up and walking towards the edge of the dock, his back towards me. I stayed seated, studying his rigid back in the moonlight.

"It just has to be. I'm away from her and all of her drug addict clients. That's all that matters," I said. But he didn't say anything in response. After a few minutes of awkward silence, I stood up, brushing the dirt from the dock onto my jeans. "Listen, I really do have to go. Monica gets worried if I stay out too long."

"Okay," he said quietly, still not facing me.

"Alright," I muttered, turning to go. "See you around."

"Wait," he called out once I'd stopped up the dock into Vince's backyard. I turned around for a second and he was jogging after me. "Can I just ask you a question before you go?"

I shrugged at him, mildly curious but mostly just shivering.

He walked towards me until we were inches apart, his face clearly visible now in the low moonlight. "If you and I hadn't met the way we did, if we'd never been at each other's throats, would you have said yes when I asked you to Homecoming?"

I stared at him intensely for a moment, stunned. I didn't know what type of question I'd been expecting but it wasn't that. "Maybe," I said, but it was a lie. If Easton—gorgeous and brooding—had asked me out in the cafeteria, without insulting me and without threatening me to stay away from him, I would have said yes emphatically. But I couldn't tell him that. It sounded pathetic, and I didn't want him to think I had a crush on him, even if—as messed up as it was—a crush was starting to form. "If you were nice about it, and I didn't think you were asking me as a joke, I might have said yes."

He swallowed hard and nodded, turning back to the water. I thought he was done talking, but he said, so low I don't think I was supposed to hear it, "It was never a joke."

I turned away like I hadn't heard him, because I liked the idea of him wanting to go on an actual date with me too much. I didn't say anything else and he didn't turn around to watch me go.