Take Me With You (17 page)

“No.”

“Eric, you’re gonna end up confusing me if you don’t just say it. What are you confused about?”

“Us.”

“What about us?”

“Are we an
us
?”

Standing up on her tiptoes, she places her lips to my cheek, the brief touch having the desired effect and warming me on contact.

“What do you think?”

“I want to be—an us.” I choke out, the damn stutter hitting at the worst possible moment and making me want to kick myself.

I’ve seen the way people are when they speak, especially when it’s about something serious the way this is. Any break in your answer and it doesn’t seem genuine and the last thing I want her to think is that because I stupidly stuttered like always that I don’t want this or I’m in some way playing a game with her.

“Me too.”

“Really?”

She smiles before leaning in and kissing my nose, whispering the same pair of words from earlier when she steps back. “Really, really.”

It’s official. I don’t want this night to end. I’m afraid that when we both go home tonight, I’m gonna wake up in the morning and realize all of this was just some sick dream my mind conjured up while I was sleeping and none of it happened.

If I wasn’t so convinced of that, I would actually find the whole thing funny.

Amelia is my dream girl.

“Do you need to go home?” she asks, bringing me out of my thoughts
and back to the one thing that I didn’t do earlier that I should have.

Slapping myself in the head, which just makes her grab on to me concerned, I smile weakly before attempting to explain.

“My mom told me I could come tonight as long as I met one condition and I broke it.”

“What was the condition?”

“I call when I got to the mall, before the movie so that she knew I was safe.”

“Well what are you waiting for!” she exclaims before sliding her hand into the pocket of my pants and pulling out my cell phone. A move that happens so fast I have no time whatsoever to react to the fact that she’s done it until she’s sliding her fingers across the screen and typing out a message faster than I even thought was possible.

Handing it back to me, she smiles right before I see her cheeks flush. Apparently I’m not the only one realizing what she just did.

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s really not. I don’t know what I was thinking doing that. I just…I didn’t want you getting in trouble because of me. There’s been enough of that.”

I’m confused again. I’ve never been in trouble because of her. Up until a few weeks ago we didn’t even speak to each other so there’s no way I could have been.

“You’ve never gotten me into trouble.”

“Yes Eric, I have.”

“Explain.”

She sighs and I hate it. There’s so much about her that I like hearing, but the way she’s sighing right now, it’s not a normal sigh. It’s a sad one and there’s no way I want her being sad, especially with the way the night has been up until now.

“I’ve done nothing but cause trouble for you since you moved here. Think about it. The names I’ve called you, the way I’ve treated you, I’ve caused you nothing but trouble.”

It makes sense now, but it’s still wrong. I don’t feel that way at all, at least not anymore. What happened in the past has to stay in the past. I’m never going to be able to forget everything that her and her friends have done to me, but she has been forgiven.

She was forgiven even before I knocked her down in Thompson’s office.

Before I can tell her all of this, the way I think so that the sad look in her eyes can go away and we can get back to being happy again, my phone buzzes in my hand and looking down I see it’s my mom responding.

It’s okay Eric. Thank you for texting me and letting me know you’re okay. I’ll see you when you get home.

Holding the phone out to her, watching as her eyes lift as she reads the message on the screen, I smile.

“See? No trouble. If anything, you saved me from trouble. You’re like my hero. My very own Storm.”

Two things happen the minute I make the joke and I don’t see either one of them coming. First, tears fall from her eyes and she lowers her head so that I don’t see them, but she doesn’t realize that wiping at them is a dead giveaway. When I’m about to reach out, touch her, tell her that she doesn’t have to cry, the second thing happens.

She moves so quickly that I can barely keep up and she’s pressing her lips to mine, not like the first time and not at all like the way she was in the theatre. Reacting to her, putting my hands on her face almost instinctively, bringing her closer, I answer her need with my own, parting my lips just the way she taught me and deepening it, until I can physically taste the bubble gum scent I love so much.

After a few seconds of being completely caught up in her, I feel her hand on my chest and she’s breaking the contact, again taking pieces of me with her the second we’re apart.

“I told you,” she says, her breath catching. “You wouldn’t suck at it.”

“It’s my teacher. My storm.”

I know it’s a risk, repeating my words from a few seconds ago but I like the way it sounds. I’ve heard other guys call their girls baby, sweetie, sexy and other names that are some way attached to their looks but for me, the last thing I focus on when I’m with her is how she looks.

It was a joke when I called her it the first time, but with the way it sounds coming out the second time, I know it’s what my mom calls a term of endearment. She really is my storm. My phoenix. She could easily become my everything if the way I feel all torn up inside means anything.

The tears, they’re there again and this time I need to know why.

“Why does calling you that make you cry?”

“If you think about it, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“I probably could, but I want you to tell me.”

“It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She says before sighing again. “And because it’s also the most accurate name you could have called me too.”

“How is it accurate?”

“What is a storm Eric?”

Not thinking that she might mean something with a deeper meaning, I give her the only answer I have. The literal definition.

“A violent weather related disturbance in the atmosphere.”

“Right.”

“I don’t get it.”

“A violent disturbance in the atmosphere, so basically a gigantic mess.”

Seeing where she’s going with this, but not agreeing, I just shake my head.

“Are you ever going to agree with anything I say?”

“Not when it’s bullshit, no.”

“Well if you didn’t mean it that way, how did you mean it?”

“A storm for me is unpredictable, an enigma really. Something that can strike at any moment and turn everything upside down and inside out. It’s also one of the most natural and amazing things in the world.”

“Holy shit.”

“What?”

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Just when I think you can’t say anything else that can mean more than the last thing you said, you go and do it.”

“Do something for me.” I say, hearing what she said, her words affecting me but an idea coming into my head so quickly that if I don’t get it out now, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget it and not wanting to forget. Not when it’s something this big.

“What?”

“The next time there’s a thunderstorm, watch the sky when the lightning hits. Don’t go out in it or anything, but wherever you are, lo
ok up and watch it. The way one long strike can light up the entire sky.”

“Why do you want me to do that?”

“Because when you see it, you’ll know why you’re my storm.”

Chapter Eighteen

Amelia

It hasn’t rained or so much as dripped in a week.

Three weeks ago, the shit was pouring out of the sky, pretty much turning everyone in town into drowned rats, and now, when I want the sky to explode, there’s nothing.

That’s not the only thing that’s different this week. Time has also not b
een on my side. It’s moving too quickly and before I know it, it’s Sunday night and I’m preparing for the reality of going back to school tomorrow.

Knowing it was coming, there should have been a buildup or some kind of countdown considering how sick and tired I’ve been staying home alone every day, but there was nothing. The excitement I should feel at getting a second chance to finish out my senior year, graduate with the rest of my class and actually get the hell out of this town, it’s just not there.

The only thing that means something going back is that he’s gonna be there.

Eric Carmen. My boyfriend.

It doesn’t matter how much time passes, there’s just no getting used to that. Sometimes, when we’re not together, which lately hasn’t been all that often, I’ll think about everything that’s happened since I dragged Hannah into the bathroom and went off on her. It’s gotten so heavy, me thinking about it so much that I’m actually kind of thankful that I did it because if I didn’t do it and get caught, I know I wouldn’t be here now.

I wouldn’t be dating this amazingly unique guy, the one doing everything he can to make me believe that I can really have a happy ending. The guy that knows all of my secrets and likes me despite it, without question, his loyalty and caring never once wavering.

The guy I could easily fall in love with if I had the first clue what real love is.

He’s not just my boyfriend, he’s my best friend too.

Going back to school, I can’t shake the feeling that when I do it, it’s going to change everything. That as soon as I walk through the doors, I’ll fall back into the safety that comes with my old routine and the events of the last three weeks will complete evaporate, become nothing more than a distant memory or even cease to exist all together.

That’s the real truth. I’m scared of going back because I don’t want anything to change.

It took eighteen years to achieve it, but this past week has been the best of my life and for me to be able to label something the best, it’s gotta be pretty monumental. It’s a word that until Eric literally knocked me on my ass, I never thought I’d have the opportunity to use.

He really did become my lifeline.

~*~*~

“So I sketched something last night.”

It didn’t take me long to realize that with Eric, he’s always drawing something and lately, it seems that it’s always for me, which if I’m perfectly honest, is the best thing ever. Every single one he gives me is even better than the one before it. He’s crazy talented but when I tell him that, he just blushes and tells me I’m bias.

I guess I am, but he’s still got more talent in one finger then I have in all ten of mine.

“What did you draw this time?”

Unzipping his backpack and sliding a sketchbook out, he flips page after page of drawings, some he’s let me see and a whole lot that he hasn’t until he stops. Ripping the perforated pages slowly until it’s completely separate in his hands, he passes it to me.

The drawings before, they’ve been animals. The first one being a phoenix,  the next one a pure white dove flying in the sky and the last one, the one taped directly beside my bed is of the bluffs, the restaurant we sat at when I told him my deepest darkest secrets, complete with two animated people sitting in chairs at a table outside.

His attention to detail is unmatched and while the people don’t exactly look like actual people do, it’s as close to perfect as it gets, at least for me.

This though, it’s different from everything he’s drawn before because this time, it’s not an animal, a location or any other random thing he pulls from his mind.

This time it’s me.

“How did you do this?”

“Do you remember the other day when I was waiting for my mom to pick me up and you were waiting to see Dr. T?”

“Yeah. You were drawing me the entire time?”

Instead of answering me he blushes and almost like it’s contagious, my cheeks flush watching him.

“I was actually sketching you, but yeah. Same thing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have posed or something.”

“If I told you that I wanted to sketch you, it would have ruined everything. You wouldn’t have let me and then it wouldn’t be as natural as it is.”

He’s got a point. If he did mention that he wanted to draw me, or as he says, sketch me I wouldn’t hav
e done it. It would have been too embarrassing. There are so many beautiful things in the world that he could be spending his time focusing on, putting focus on me seems wrong.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Not as much as the real thing.”

Sliding the sketchbook back in his bag and putting it back on the floor, he leans over until his lips are brushing against mine. Because we’re in public, this kiss, it won’t be as intense as the ones he gives me when we’re completely alone, but it means just as much.

“Mmm.” He moans when he’s finally back in his seat. “Bubble gum.”

The first time we kissed after our movie night, the first night in my daily storm watch, he asked me how I always managed to smell like bubble gum. Thinking he was joking, I blew it off, but being as persistent as he is, he didn’t let it go until I told him.

Knowing how much he likes it, I didn’t want to show him. I didn’t want anything to break the illusion and the joy he seems to experience every time he’s near me, but show him I did.

Bubble gum flavored Chapstick. My big secret is something that cost me less than a dollar.

“I’m starting to think I’m not the only one that needs help with addiction.”

“You might be right. I should look into it. How common do you think bubble gum addiction is?”

“I take it back, I think it’s a lost cause. You’re the only one.”

He grins and his cheeks go red and my head threatens to explode from the happiness it brings me.

Rose calls my name, signaling my turn in what we’ve started calling the hot seat, but before I can stand to go, he reaches across, stopping me. Thinking that he’s going to lean over and kiss me again, I scoot closer, but he stands instead.

“What are you doing?”

“Going with you.”

“What?”

“You forgot didn’t you?”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, swiping across the screen a few times until he finds what he’s looking for, he passes it to me and I’m met with my own words from the night before.

Will you come in with me for my appt tomorrow?

I blush the minute I see the words because I remember sending the text, but it completel
y slipped my mind.

“Do you still want me to come in with you?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t remember.”

He leans his forehead down until it’s resting comfortably against mine and he runs his lips across my nose before backing away and tapping it with his finger.

“Nothing to be sorry for, I just wanted to be sure you didn’t change your mind and wanted to go in alone.”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

~*~*~

He hasn’t let me go through an appointment alone since. It’s not exactly right, him coming in with me, since our sessions are supposed to be private, but Dr. T doesn’t push it. He knows how hard admitting everything has been for me and he also knows how I feel about Eric, so he allows it.

If the way he’s been in the sessions is any indication, I think he might even support it.

Opening the drawer beside my bed, I reach inside, pushing things aside looking for it.

  This drawer, there was a time where the only time it got opened was when I needed relief from the nightmares. It had a singular purpose and would never be used for anything other than making the pain stop.

Moving my hand around inside until it makes contact with exactly what I’m looking for, I pull it out and just like every other night since he gave it to me, place it over my heart.

This is exactly what I need right now. His sketch of me, the one that he said he drew so that I could see what he sees when he looks at me, it’s going to be the thing that gets me through the rest of this night and into my first day back tomorrow.

It’s more than just a picture to me. It’s a constant reminder that I’m the one that controls my life and what will happen to me in the future. It’s a reminder that I’m not as alone as I think and that there’s one person in the world that cares, even when like right now, we’re not together.

It’s the real me, the one that no matter what I walk into tomorrow, I’ve got to let the rest of the world see.

Amy left school almost a month ago and she’s so angry she won’t ever be coming back, but there’s someone better coming in her place.

Amelia.

Me.

Eric

Four hours.

Two hundred and forty minutes.

That’s how much sleep I got last night with all of the thoughts running through my head.

Two hours.

One hundred and twenty minutes.

The time it took me to put together what I’m about to put into motion now.

Most of that time was spent looking up her address because despite being with her for the past few weeks, where we lived has just never come up. Meeting randomly all over town along with the time we spend at Dr. T’s office, it’s just always been more than enough.

Well, maybe not more than enough because when I’m with her it kind of seems like there isn’t enough time at all before we’re apart again, but there’s just never been a need to push for anything else.

After talking to my mom when she woke up at six, explaining to her what I wanted to do, she just smiled, went back into her room and didn’t come out until she was d
ressed with car keys in hand.

I wasn’t sure I would be able to pull this off the way I wanted to, but it seems like my mom’s made a few connections since we moved here in the fall and the one area I was afraid would crash and burn, she makes happen effortlessly, explaining on the way to the car that she pulled in a favor and got me what I needed. Flowers.

So here I am now, standing outside Amelia’s house, the first time I’ve been this close without her knowing about it and my heart is in overdrive. There’s no sign of life inside, which is not surprising considering it’s only been forty five minutes since I asked my mom for her help, but I don’t need anyone to be awake for what I’m about to do next.

Walking up the driveway until I mee
t the stone path that leads to her door, I put the items I’m carrying down on the top stair, making sure that the paper is secure underneath the heavier item, not backing up until I could be sure it wouldn’t blow away the minute I turned my back.

Heading back to the car, my mom smiling at me through the window, I slide myself in and immediately pull the seatbelt across my lap until I hear the click.

“You’re a pretty amazing kid, you know that?”

“Only because I’ve got a pretty awesome Mom.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her smile, but more than that, I see the wetness building up in the corner of her eyes and where any other time it would worry me, thinking that I said something wrong and made her cry, this time I know it’s because she’s happy.

“What you’re doing for this girl, it’s a really nice thing.”

“I just hope she sees it that way.”

“Oh honey, how could she not? She’s going to love you almost as much as I do when she sees what you’ve done.”

Is that why I’m doing this? Did I put all of this together because I love her and I want her to love me the same way? No, it can’t be that. I’m not entirely sure what love feels like, but I’m pretty sure it takes a whole lot longer to experience than just a few weeks. I’m just doing this because I want her to know that I’m thinking about her. It’s that simple.

“No one can love me as much as you. It’s impossible.”

The first tear falls down her face, but as she wipes it away, I hear her laugh which just confirms I was right earlier. These are happy tears. What I’m doing for Amelia, she thinks it’s sweet.

“I think you might be right about that. When did you become so smart?”

It silly and cheesy, but because I know it’s going to make her even happier, I don’t even think it through, I just say the first thing that pops in my head.

“The day the doctor gave me to you.”

“Alright,” she says through her now flowing tears. “Enough of the mushy stuff.”

“You started it, Mom.”

“I still can’t believe it.” she says, completely changing the subject and now I’m curious what she means. What is it that’s so hard for her to believe?