The Natural History of Us (25 page)

“I've always loved the way the sunset reflects on the pond,” I murmured, coming to a stop just behind him. Justin's spine tensed and I added, “It's peaceful.”

Eyes wary, he glanced at me over his shoulder. “Yeah. It is.”

Pursing my lips, trying my best to keep the vomit of questions I had for him contained, I strolled around the picnic table and hopped up to sit on its surface. Close, but not too close, in case he still needed space. Quietly, we watched the colors in the sky grow warm.

When he'd taken off like a bat out of hell earlier, I'd stood frozen for a full minute, paralyzed by indecision. Should I follow him? Did he want me to? I wasn't even sure what had happened. One moment we were laughing, playing my family's silly game, and I was thinking how awesome it was that I'd gotten to share it with Justin. The next, he was gone.

Had he hated it that much? Had he been bored? He'd seemed to be enjoying himself… but what the heck did I know anyway? Boys in general were still a mystery, but I'd thought I was getting to know this one pretty well. Bolting like a spooked horse, though, was weird.

“Sorry.” Justin sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. “I just… needed a minute.”

“I get it,” I told him, scooting slightly closer. “Hey, my family is a lot to take. Now, the secret's out: I'm a geek who hails from a nutcase family. I don't blame you for running while you still could. There was gonna be an initiation after the match.”

A hint of a smile played at his lips. “Geeks aren't so bad. Haven't you seen
The Big Bang Theory
? Nutcases are all the rage these days.”

At his teasing chuckle, I slid over again, removing the distance between us. Our shoulders bumped and I noticed for the first time a small spiral notebook in his left hand. The same kind I'd seen in his room. Justin noticed where I was looking and turned back to the pond.

“Had to clear the white noise,” he explained, tapping the notebook against his thigh.

So many questions flooded my mind, but I promised myself I wouldn't push. So, against every curious-cat instinct I had, I asked, “Do you want me to go?”
Please say no, please say no
.

“Nah.”

Justin beat the notebook on his leg again, eyes unfocused on the water, obviously lost in thought. I felt so helpless. He was so much more sensitive than anyone knew, and while I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and hold him, I didn't know if I'd be welcomed. Instead, I decided to try and lighten the mood.

“You're lucky I'm not swiping that book and running for the hills,” I said, leaning into his body. “If I recall, I did vow to read your stuff one day, and here you are, flaunting it in front of my face.”

I grinned to show I was teasing and he glanced at me from the corner of his eye. Then, shocking the ever-loving hell out of me, he handed it over.

My mouth tumbled open in shock. “
Really
?”

Justin lifted his chin in a nod and glanced at the water. Hesitantly, with trembling hands, I set the notebook in my lap and took a breath. This felt huge. Monumental. I was about to get a peek inside the secret musings of the undisputed bad boy of Fairfield Academy.

If not for the constant rubbing of his fingers, the increased rise and fall of his chest, I'd have no clue this bothered him. That it did, and he was letting me read it anyway, warmed my heart. I made a promise to myself right then and there—whether his writing was good or bad, I would praise him.

I turned the cover.

And fell even deeper in love.

Lyrics that clearly meant something to him. Notes on how he played a particular day, what he wanted to improve. And poetry. God, the poetry!

Short phrases and lines like: “Head down. Work Harder. Don't let them see that you care.”

And longer ones, obviously about his dad. I stopped at one about half-way through the book, and tears filled my eyes.

Man I Need to Be

Hey, look at me!

Am I everything I'm supposed to be?

Do you even care?

Do you see the burden I bear?

Hey, look at me!

Am I the man I need to be?

You are never there.

Maybe I never really had a prayer.

HEY, look at me!

You look, but never really see.

Time with me, not a second to spare.

A kingdom of loneliness and I'm the heir.

HEY, LOOK AT ME!

The tears fell silently and I brushed them away, not wanting Justin to see. Not wanting them to fall on the page and ruin these beautiful words. Not beautiful because they painted a pretty picture… beautiful because finally, I was getting a glimpse of the real Justin. The lonely, sad, heartbroken boy who desperately wanted to be loved.

I turned another page.

Bottled Up

I toss out another lie and a smile that's just for show.

I'm bottled up and hidden, but you'll never know.

Your oblivion is my only crutch.

Close your eyes so you don't see too much.

I've never been the guy with his heart on his sleeve,

But you don't always have to see to believe.

I open up and you shut me down.

I feel like a prince who has lost his crown.

But I'm fine, and it's okay.

It never fit right anyway.

I've never been one to beg…

So, go ahead and knock me down another peg.

It felt almost wrong, reading these words. Seeing the pain he kept hidden so well behind his flirtatious smiles and teasing words. But I was addicted. I was a girl obsessed, hooked on discovery. Reverently, I flipped the page and came to his latest entry. The words Justin wrote after hightailing it away from my family. I sniffled and curled forward, hoping this final poem gave a hint in how to help him.

Empty House

I'm a pawn and your life is a game.

Nothing real, just a picture in your frame.

This cold, empty house is all an act.

It's really just broken and cracked.

Hang me like a trophy on the wall.

Use me to show how you have it all.

I've seen how a family should really be.

And you're nothing but a pretend father to me.

“I'm no Whitman or anything.” Justin's timid voice snapped me back to the moment, and I raised my head, realizing just how long I'd been reading.

Overhead, the sun was giving its last hurrah, bathing the sky in deep orange, purple, and red. Its reflection on the pond's surface along with the scattered trees and old, weathered dock painted a picture of total peace and contentment.

The juxtaposition of the image and his troubled words themselves was sort of poetic.

“You have to know how incredibly talented you are,” I murmured, not wanting to break the spell that had fallen. Justin had let me into his secret world. Showed me what a deep, sensitive person he really was. The thought that he'd now close up or regret sharing his words with me terrified me.

He'd already told me about his absentee dad and horrid stepmom. My bad opinion had been confirmed when I finally met her a few days ago. I knew his father lived on the road, and that when he was younger, he'd been raised by his grandparents. He'd shared these things like they weren't a big deal. Obviously, they were.

“I never met my real mom.” Justin reached over and took the notebook from my hand. His eyes and smile were hard as he said, “Annabeth wants nothing to do with me—not that I want anything to do with her, either. Dad's never home, my grandparents are gone. The only person who cares about me, other than a three-year-old who needs help brushing his teeth, is paid to do so.” He barked a cruel laugh and I winced. “How pathetic is that?”

“It's not
you
, Justin. You know that, right?”

He leaned back and shoved the notebook in his pocket, a scoff on his lips.

“I'm serious. That's on them… it's their problem. If they can't see how amazing you are, then I feel sorry for them. Really.” I hopped off the bench and came to stand in front of him. “I'm so sorry if being here this weekend hurt you. I wanted—”

“No,” Justin interrupted. “Don't feel guilty, Sunshine. I love that you're close to your family, okay?” He put his hands on my hips and tugged me between his open legs. “I'm grateful as hell that you let me be here. I would've been climbing the walls at home, writing even more horrific crap I pretend to
be poetry.” When I went to argue—his writing is
amazing
, not crap!—he silenced me with a finger across my lips. “But being here is hard, too.”

“I know,” I told him, my lips brushing against his skin. His eyes fell to my mouth and he swallowed thickly before moving his hand to cup my cheek. “I mean, I don't
know
, but I can sympathize. I'm so glad you shared this with me, Justin. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

He lowered his gaze and nodded, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I feel closer to you now,” I admitted, and he raised his eyes again. “Is there anything you want to know about me?” I'd already told him about the hospital, but I figured putting myself on the hot seat might make him feel less vulnerable.

Justin seemed to think for a moment, then said, “Tell me about your recovery.”

I sighed. “My therapists are great. They are. They know I'm into horses so they worked them into my therapy from the beginning. While I was still in a wheelchair, I brushed Oakley to build my shoulder strength and endurance. When I progressed to a walker, they had me brushing her while holding onto a post, or feeding her carrots. That helped increase my control and stamina. Later, I braided Annie's mane for finger coordination, and cleaned the tack—Mama loved that, of course. Less work for her,” I said with a chuckle.

“Eventually, they put me on a machine that mimics a horse's movements, and finally, they let me on Oakley. But I still can't ride like I used to. Not yet anyway.” Even admitting that aloud made me feel weak. I hated that feeling. “My grip is different, my balance is off. Even now, over a year later from when it all started.”

I stared past him, toward Oakley's stall, regretting sharing so much. Now I felt exposed.

Good plan, Peyton
.

“You really are incredible.”

I smirked. “I don't know about that…”

“You're a fighter,” he said. “The strongest person I've ever met, in fact.”

“I just did what I had to do.” I shrugged as a blush from his praise lit my cheeks. “Anyone would've done the same.”

Justin tipped up my chin with his finger and said, “You're far from just anyone, Peyton. You're impulsive and fearless. You're stubborn and curious. You drive me
insane
with your millions of questions. And your heart… Sunshine, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

I wanted to look away. Hearing compliments was hard for me, I never really believed them. But when it came to Justin? God, I wanted to believe them so badly.

He brushed his thumb across my jaw. “Instead of giving up in the hospital, like most people would've done, you walked away optimistic. Grateful, even. I'm in awe of you.” Justin looked deep into my eyes and said, “Peyton, you make me want to be a better guy. I want to deserve those sweet smiles of yours. I—”

I leaned forward and kissed him.

Words wouldn't express what he did to me. My heart felt heavy, so overflowing with love for this wounded, insecure boy that I couldn't contain it all. So I put it in my lips. In my mouth and in my tongue and in my small gasp of surprise when Justin yanked my body flush against his.

I gave myself over to emotion, threading my fingers through his thick, dark hair. Deepening the kiss and tangling my tongue with his. Dizzying desire whipped through my body, fogging my head with want, and settling in a warm pool of tingles in my belly. Goose bumps danced across my skin as the cool, crisp taste of mint exploded on my tongue.

“Baby…”

Wow
. The word set off a flame in my blood. It was a claiming, every bit as much as his lips as they ravaged my mouth, taking over control, possessing me. And I
wanted
to be his. Completely, in every way I possibly could.

Justin was wrong before. I wasn't strong or incredible. I wasn't anything special. But he made me feel as though I was. If I'd learned anything living post-GBS, it was that life was short, and when you found happiness, you grabbed on with both hands and never let go. I had no intention of loosening my grip.

“Uh…” Justin groaned as he tore his lips from mine. “We can't.” He pushed my hips back, but kept his hands clenched around my waist and leaned forward to brush another kiss against my swollen mouth. His heavy-lidded gaze fell on his handiwork. “Your dad… your whole family… they'll see us. We have to…”

That he was so breathless over me was a thrill of its own. I grinned up at him, taunting his inner battle by raking my teeth across my bottom lip, and he swallowed hard before inching closer to the edge of the bench. Closer to me.

“We need to slow down.”

“No, we really don't.” Setting my palms against his chest, I pressed my lips to his jaw. “No one ever comes back here but me.” He moaned as my lips traveled higher, closer to his ear, and he tugged me back between his legs. “Besides, they're too busy with my grandparents to—”

“Peyton!” At my father's disembodied voice calling from a not too far distance, Justin's eyes grew wide with fear. “Justin! Where are you, son? Jesse wants to watch you catch.”

There goes that plan
.

Sighing the sigh of the sexually frustrated, I bowed my head and stepped out of the warmth of Justin's arms. “We'll
finish this later,” I promised. Then, with a final nip of his lips, I called back, “Coming!”

When Justin didn't immediately follow, I turned back in confusion. “I think I need a minute,” he told me with me a rueful smile. I frowned in confusion and he sent a pointed look toward his lap. “Tell your dad I'll be right out.”