The Year We Hid Away (14 page)

Seconds later I collapsed onto the bed, pulling her closer. My eyes were slammed shut, but I didn’t need to look at Scarlet to know that everything was okay. Her hands skimmed my body with a reverent touch, and her lips grazed my ear.

“So,” I said, hoarse from exertion. “Good thing I got all worried about that.”

“But you promised me it would be awful,” she whispered.

“Did I?” Her hips fit perfectly into my hands. “Maybe next time.”

—
Scarlet

I could have stayed there forever, curled up with him. His arms encircled me, and I listened to the sound of his breathing. I waited for the slap of shame to come along and ruin it for me.
Look how J.P. Ellison’s daughter spends her Friday nights
. But the dark thoughts just wouldn’t stick. Bridger’s arms were warm, and I could hear the thunk of his heartbeat under my ear. It was the most peaceful moment I’d had in weeks.

“We should get some sleep,” he said eventually.

“I know. I’ll go,” I said quickly.

“We can stay here together,” he said. “But I can’t have us naked if Lulu opens that door in the morning. Let me find you something to wear.”

Bridger fetched me a pair of flannel boxer shorts and a t-shirt for each of us. We curled up together again on the bed. And even though I was sure I would lay awake all night just appreciating him, I fell asleep almost instantly.

There was barely any light in the sky when Bridger woke me the next morning, his fingers running up and down my spine. “I hear Lulu walking around my room,” he whispered.

I sat up quickly. “I’d better go.”

“Don’t panic,” he said. “I’m sure she’s sticking a cartoon DVD in my laptop right now, and rooting for junk food. She’s a bit of an opportunist.”

Quietly, I got dressed. Bridger and I were sitting on the edge of the bed, cuddling our goodbyes when the fire door opened.

When I turned my head, Lulu looked from Bridger to me and back again. “Bridge, do we have any pop tarts?” she asked.

He held out an arm, chuckling. “Lu, come here a sec.”

The little girl walked over and slid easily onto Bridger’s knee. Set against his muscular shoulder, she looked tiny. Doll-like.

“Lu, in the first place, the pop tarts were a special treat, and they’re gone. You can have Cheerios or yogurt. But how about a good morning? This is my girlfriend, Scarlet.”

The little girl patted his arm absently. The gesture — her slim fingers on his big wrist — was so natural and trusting that I felt a lump in my throat. “Good morning,” she said, scrutinizing me. “Scarlet’s hair isn’t red like ours,” she pointed out. “So why are you named that?”

“Good point,” I told her. “I guess I should have thought that through.”

Bridger gave me a strange look, and I kicked myself for saying it.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters, Scarlet?” Lucy asked.

I shook my head. “No, and I always wished I did.”

Then her face lit up. “Hey, is that popcorn?”

“You can have it,” I said, nodding toward the bag.

“…after breakfast,” Bridger said quickly.

Lulu slid off Bridger’s knee and picked up the bag. “Thank you. I’m going to watch a video now.” Then she turned on her heel and went back to the other room. I could hear SpongeBob’s voice as the door shut on her.

“Sorry,” I said right away. I meant to leave before Lulu saw me.

“Scarlet…” he whispered into my ear. “I’m not sorry about anything. You and I were just talking. She wasn’t robbed of her innocence.”

I flinched, because “robbed of innocence” was one of the phrases that regularly appeared in articles about my father.

“Listen,” Bridger said, kissing my ear. “I don’t even want to guess what things that kid saw in her so-called home.”

“You never told me why you took her away.”

He slipped his arms around my waist, his voice low in my ear. “It was summer term, and I was living on campus. I was starting to realize that my mom was losing her way. When I’d stop by, there were strange people in the house. Lulu seemed skittish…” He stopped talking for a second, pulling me closer. “It was freaking me out. And then I went over there one day and found they’d put a lock on the outside of her door. They locked her in there, Scarlet. And when I opened the door, she jumped a mile.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “So I just took her. We packed up some of her clothes and a couple of stuffed animals, and we never went back. She hasn’t asked about mom since September.”

“My God,” I whispered.

“So…” his voice was thick. “If that little girl sees you and I sitting here, saying nice things to each other — that’s the
right
thing for a kid to see.” He rubbed my back. “You’re one of the good guys, Scarlet.”

My eyes pricked with tears. “You don’t know that.”

He cupped my face in his hands. “Yeah, I do.” Then Bridger kissed me with lips so soft and gentle that it nearly stopped my heart.

“I’m going to leave you two to your morning,” I said afterwards, squeezing him one more time.

“It’s very hard to let you go, you beautiful creature.”

“Then I’ll go fast. See you in class on Tuesday.” I stood up and marched out his neighbor’s front door.

Since it was only eight o’clock when I walked into my common room that Saturday morning, it was something of a shock to encounter both Katies. They were lacing up their running shoes. And staring at me.

“You are so busted,” Blond Katie smiled. “Look at you, doing the walk of shame.”

I giggled, my embarrassment complete.

She stood up to stretch her quads. “Tell us. Does Bridger have freckles on his dick?”

I put my hands in front of my eyes. “Jeez, Katie.”

“Well? Does he?”

“It was
dark
.”

Katie giggled too. “Get changed, Scarlet. Since you’re up, you might as well join us on our run.”

I was just about to decline like I always do. But I heard myself say, “you know, I think I will.”

That afternoon I sat on the window seat, supposedly doing my Italian homework. But I was also texting with Bridger.

BRIDGER:
Lu asking about you. Your favorite color, etc.

ME:
Let’s go with red
.

BRIDGER:
Favorite book?

ME:
Ballet Shoes
.

BRIDGER:
Huh. Now she’s your new groupie. She loves that book
.

ME:
My work here is done.

BRIDGER:
She asks if I love you.

Oh boy. With my heart pinging around in my chest, I tried to think up a breezy reply. But there weren’t any. Silence was the only response that wasn’t entirely loaded. Then my phone chimed again.

BRIDGER:
I said yes, obviously
.

ME:
**SWOON!** Tell her I’ll pay her the 5 bucks tomorrow

BRIDGER:
LOL! Signing off to read a chapter of Harry Potter.

“You’re grinning like a fool over there,” Blond Katie observed.

“Can’t help it,” I sighed.

Katie clutched her chest. “Oh, you’ve got it bad. I can tell.”

Sunday, Ponytail Katie had another fashion crisis. She’d been invited to a dinner party that evening at some fraternity or other. And dress was
not
casual. “I don’t have the right shoes. Not even close. And there’s nowhere to shop around here. I should have gone to Columbia. It’s only a subway ride to Bloomingdales.”

I laughed out loud. Today, the Katies’ first world problems were more funny than irritating. “I might be able to help you,” I said.

“But all your shoes are sneakers,” she moaned.

“True. But I also have a car.”

“What?” the Katies yelped in unison. “Scarlet!” Blond Katie gasped. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

“I don’t ever use it,” I admitted. “But I’ll drive you to the mall, if you two will help me with a few questions on the way there.”

“Deal!” they squealed.

Half an hour later, I drove out of Harkness, both Katies in tow. Hopefully neither of them would wonder why a girl from Miami Beach had New Hampshire plates on her car. Soon we were accelerating toward the big mall in Stamford.

“So what do you need help with?” Blond Katie asked.

If she hadn’t remembered to ask, I probably would have chickened out. At just the thought, I felt my face heat. Best to just get this over with. “Birth control,” I blurted. “Where do I go — and what do I ask for?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Ponytail Katie said from the passenger seat. “The gyno department phone number is 4900, and you want an appointment with Barbara. The minute you set foot in her office, she’ll ask you if you need birth control. Say yes. The end.”

“Well, okay.” I could do that.

“What else do you need to know?” Blond Katie asked from behind us. “I’ll make you a list of my favorite sex toys. The Lelo corporation should name a wing of their corporate headquarters after me. I’m like their best customer.”

“Omigod,” Ponytail Katie laughed. “You’re making Scarlet blush. That is
so
cute.”

When I’d chosen my new name, my reasoning had nothing to do with blushing. But it might as well have. Because I was so good at it. “I’m not up to… those yet,” I stammered.

“Pity,” Blond Katie said. “What are you up to?”

“Well,” I kept my eyes on the road, so I wouldn’t have to look anyone in the eye. “Lots of things. Except I’ve never given, erm…”

“Given… a rim job? A prostate massage?”

Lord, I didn’t even know what that second thing was. “A blow job,” I blurted.

There was a stunned silence in my car. “Wow,” Ponytail Katie whispered finally. “I’m so glad I wasn’t home schooled.”

“Right,” I snorted.

“Girlfriend, there is nothing to it,” Blond Katie piped up. “Do you like ice pops?”

“Sure?”

“That’s all you need to know. Lick it. Suck it. Never use any teeth.”

“Gotcha,” I said as my face flamed away.

“Seriously, there’s a whole lot of extra credit techniques you could learn on YouTube. But you don’t need that, because enthusiasm counts for ninety percent of your grade.”

“Good thing.” I tried to imagine myself Googling “how to give a blow job.” And failed.

We went to the mall, where I ate a giant pretzel from one of those evil kiosks that belches the irresistible scent of warm butter into the air. And I watched with amusement while the Katies shopped for lingerie.

I felt lighter that weekend. It was as if my new life had finally put down little roots. The Katies were less annoying to me all of a sudden. I’d been hating them for their self absorption. But now that I had a taste of living in my own little dreamland, my stomach fluttering every time I pictured Bridger leaning over me in bed. I was distracted. And happy. And whimsical.

It felt damned good.

Chapter Ten:
Exactly the Wrong Question

—
Scarlet

I got my graded midterm back at the end of statistics class the following Tuesday. As Bridger and I walked toward our music theory lecture, I held it up for him to see. On the top, “87%” had been penned in bright red letters. “See that?” I said, skipping down the sidewalk like an idiot. A
happy
idiot. “Do you have
any idea
how smart I am? That’s why you hang around with me, isn’t it? Tell the truth.”

“You’ve got me all figured out, babe.” Bridger reached over and pinched my ass. Then he took my hand. “Damn, your fingers are cold,” he said, massaging them. Then he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it.

God, I had it bad for this guy. But could you blame me?

November had arrived, and people began to talk about their plans for the holidays. I was relieved to learn that the dorms didn’t close over Thanksgiving weekend. That meant that I could make it all the way to mid-December without having to go home to New Hampshire.

“You’re not flying home?” Bridger asked when I brought it up.

The question confused me, because I’d forgotten for a second that I was supposed to be from Miami Beach. I shook my head. “I’m not going to bother. It’s only four days, anyway. A long weekend.”

“This place really empties out over Thanksgiving,” he warned, his eyes studying me.

I shrugged. “That’s okay. What are you and Lucy up to?” It had suddenly occurred to me that I might get to see him over break.

“Usually we go to Hartley’s mother’s house. But this year he’s going to be with his fancy dad on an island somewhere. So I thought we’d stay here,” he said. “But then my fire door neighbor,” He paused to raise his eyebrows suggestively, until I laughed. “He invited us to his place, which is about ninety minutes away. Lucy and I might stay for the weekend.”