I wrap myself around him tighter, closing my eyes and feeling the plaster of his cast digging into my back. “You are anything but a failure, Oli. You just have to figure out what you want to do next.”
He holds me like that for another minute, and then he lowers me back to the floor, until I’m craning my neck to look up at him again. “I’m here,” I tell him, holding his face between my hands. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”
His eyes search my face for a long time, and then he’s bending forward, kissing me, pressing me back against the wall of our entryway until I can’t breathe between him and the wall. Oliver has never kissed me like this before: urgent and desperate. It’s scary and exciting, and I can’t stop kissing him, holding him to me, letting his hands roam every part of me that he can find.
“I’m here,” I say again.
I can’t remember ever being this close to another person, ever feeling so wrapped up in someone else, so close that our bodies don’t feel like two separate bodies anymore.
“I love you,” I hear him say, low, under his breath, like he doesn’t mean for me to hear him.
I close my eyes and press my face into his shirt, latching on to him. My heart is screaming, but I can’t say it back. Because I’m not sure if what I feel for Oliver is love.
He makes a quiet sound against my neck and then spins us around, moving toward the couch, where he lays me down gently and settles his weight on me. The urgency has faded, his kisses turning long and slow, and I can feel myself ready to cry because I want to love this boy. I want to feel this way, this feeling of safety and acceptance and something so kind and intimate, forever. I want Oli. My heart wants him.
So even though I don’t say it back, I press my mouth to his and try to show him anyway.
OLIVER
I SLIP OUT of Amy’s house when we hear her parents’ minivan pull into the driveway, moving out the back door quick, even though my body feels heavy and drugged from almost an hour of Amy’s mouth on mine.
I walk the two blocks to my truck, but as soon as I’m in it, I’m not sure what to do next. Amy offered to talk to her parents, insisting they would let me crash on the couch if I need to, but I have other options.
Really, I only have one option. The option that makes the most sense.
I drive to Independence.
Dad’s porch light isn’t on when I pull up in front of his house, but the lights are on inside. There’s a good chance the porch light doesn’t even work. It’s kind of early, and his truck is still parked in the driveway, although he must be getting ready to leave for work soon.
As if on cue, the front door opens. Dad turns and props the screen door open with his back while he locks his door. I watch him until he turns around and his eyes catch on my truck, parked against the curb. He frowns in my direction and then walks around the front of the truck, looking both ways before he steps into the street. He comes around the side and knocks on my window.
“Oli?” he says when I’ve rolled it down, letting in the cool evening air. “What’s going on?” His eyes flit down to the bags on my passenger seat. It’s hard to get used to him like this, clear-eyed and sober.
“Could I stay with you for a while?”
AMY
“OKAY, WELL MAYBE I can text you on my lunch break,” I say into my phone as people file into AP bio. I know I have to get off the phone before our teacher sees, but it’s hard when Oliver sounds so sad, so lonely. He’s been living with his dad for a few days, but he says it feels like years, and I can’t even imagine. I wouldn’t have any clue what to do if my parents kicked me out, other than sit on the floor and cry.
“You should come see me on my break.”
Jackson drops down in the seat next to me, and I turn my face away, lowering my voice because I know that he’s the kind of person to eavesdrop, and I really should have thought this through before having this conversation in AP bio.
“I can’t come see you every time I’m off work. That completely defeats the purpose of my not having to work. I have homework to do.”
He sighs. “Homework schmomework. I miss you.”
I smile down at the table, scratching at the black surface with my nail. “I miss you, too. Maybe I can come over and hang out tonight. What time does your dad leave for work?”
He makes a humming noise in the back of his throat. “Not sure. I think he has a meeting tonight before his shift. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay.” My voice has gone soft, the way all of me does when I talk to Oli. “Text me.”
“Amy,” Oli says loudly, like he’s afraid I’ll hang up before he can get his next words out. “I love you.”
I open my mouth to say it back, want to say it back so bad, but Jackson shifts on the chair next to me, so I just say, “Bye, Oli,” and hang up.
“You and your boyfriend are so cute,” Jackson says as soon as my phone is back in my pocket.
“I would appreciate it if you’d mind your own business.”
“Yeah? Well, I would appreciate it if you’d make your personal phone calls somewhere else.” He turns away from me, and I just roll my eyes because he’s acting like a fourth grader, and it’s embarrassing. For him, not me.
“Did you get the answer for number five, because I struggled on it for like an hour,” he asks, his voice completely normal, like we’ve been discussing homework this whole time.
For just a second, I stare at him. “You’re kidding, right? What makes you think I’m going to help you after what you did?”
Jackson slams his book on the table, making me jump. “Because I apologized, and I really didn’t mean to fuck things up for you.” His eyes find mine, and there’s something about the way he looks at me that has me completely rattled. His eyes drop, and I can’t look away. “Because I need help.”
I can feel myself wavering. Jackson has always had this power over me. I think about Petra offering to tutor me even though I’ve been awful to her. Does Jackson deserve the same kindness? Maybe. But I’ve never done to Petra what Jackson did to me.
I turn away from him slightly so that I don’t have to look at his downtrodden expression anymore. “You should have thought about that before you acted like a jackass.”
He sighs, but I don’t turn to look at his face. Because I know myself well enough to know that I’ll forgive him, and he doesn’t deserve it.
AMY
I’M JITTERY. I want to go see Oliver. I want to feel his arms around me. When I get home, it’s to all four of my siblings running around like chickens with their heads cut off and my mother shouting at them in Spanish. Carlos is in the living room watching TV as if he can’t hear all the commotion, and I immediately plug my ears.
“Mama!” I shout, but with all five of them screaming, no one can hear me. “Mama!” Still nothing but now my mother is chasing my little brothers around with one of her wooden spoons, and I’ve completely given up trying to get anyone’s attention.
I drop my bag by the door, kick off my shoes, and walk to the mailbox in my socks. I’m the only one in the house who gets the mail for some reason, and because of this, our mailman hates us immensely. There’s always a week’s worth of mail crammed into the box, and today is no different.