Page 20 of The Significance of Moving On

He laughs. I laugh. But there’s this unspoken communication between us.

“Yeah, yeah it is,” I say in earnest. We watch as the sun fills tiny waves skimming across the surface of the lake, tiny, shimmering cups of molten gold. But even as beautiful as it is, the water can’t keep my attention for long. Casey and his quiet, reflective posture capture me more than any amount of liquid gold ever could.

He needs to know how I feel about him, and this couldn’t be a more perfect setting, opportunity, whatever. Imagine two brothers finding love with a couple of Edgewood girls. That’s real romance novel material, which seems much nicer than the horror filled Frankenstein, shit-show of a life I’ve suffered through thus far.

I slide my arms away from his shoulders, up around his neck, touching our cheeks together. It’s now or never.Deep breath in. Deep breath out.And my lips find his. Surprised. For the second time this summer I kiss Casey Davenport.

But he doesn’t kiss back this time, not even briefly. “No, Tally.” He pushes me off.

“Why not?” My eyes sting, my throat’s dry.

“You’re grieving.”

“Yes, I’m grieving. But you—you said it was all right for me to move on, have fun, just be normal. I feel closer to you than I’ve ever felt with anyone including Tom.”

“It is alright, but Tal, you’re eighteen. I’m twenty-one. You’ve got homecoming and prom to look forward to.”

“So be my date. Or don’t. My life hasn’t exactly followed the typical teenage trope. We’d be good together, Casey. Don’t you feel it?”

“Doesn’t matter what I feel, there are things—I just can’t.”

“Should I leave then? Give you back your bachelor pad.”

“Stop. I want you here. It’s just this.” He moves his hand between us. “can’t happen.”

Kelsey calls over to me right as he finishes ripping out my heart. Her timing couldn’t be more perfect. I walk down to the water’s edge and cup a few handfuls of lake, splashing my face to keep her from noticing that I’ve started crying.

Casey doesn’t spare me a glance as I pass back by his chair.

Someone broke out the alcohol. Booze, bongs, and boys could be the best thing for a Davenport hangover. If Casey doesn’t want me maybe someone here will? My question gets answered when I’m pulled up on some dude’s, Brad I think he says his name is, shoulders. Kels is up on Demetrius’ and we battle to the death at chicken. Every time one of us falls off, both the guy and girl on that team have to take a drink. I’m up five shots, she’s up seven. Because I’m badass and feeling good, next we take on the beach ball. Rules, Brad tells me and everyone else, is whoever lets the ball touch the sand takes a shot. I’m not a big drinker. Mostly on special occasions so…

I run for the ball and literally trip on sand, falling face first. Shot. Tequila. No lime. The guys laugh, cheering me on. I’m ready. D hits the ball high in the air. Several of us break for it. I’m not looking at anyone, trying damn hard to hit it. Kelsey and I collide spilling us both down onto our butts. The ball drops between us. Tequila. No lime.

My brain feels fuzzy. “I’m out.” I call to the rest, seeing twice as many bodies as before. Four more shots. That makes five plus two plus four more is eleven? Yeah, eleven. I need to lie down. Brad runs up with a big beach towel, and he drapes it around me. I thank him which he takes as an open invitation to exploit me. His hand slips inside my halter, groping my breast and his sloppy lips suck and slide down my neck.

“Get off.” I demand, pushing as hard as I can, which doesn’t seem to be very hard at all.

“I’m trying to,” he says back. Then Brad sweeps my legs out from under me and I fall, pinned to the bumpy sand while he tries to separate me from my bikini bottoms. This is not what I want, he’s not who I want.

How did I end up in this situation? I can’t kick my legs, can’t push him off. Panic fills me even worse than any regular panic attack because I can’t think straight, my head still fuzzy. But then—whoosh—he goes flying. And there’s the sound of crunching, like a heavy punch repeatedly hitting its target. And swearing, and shouting and then there’s Casey. I feel like I need to vomit.

He picks me up for the umpteenth time this summer, carrying me off the beach back to the parking lot where he sets me down on the tailgate of his pickup before unlocking the door and helping me into the front seat.

We’re back to the silent treatment.

Fall

Casey

Chapter Eleven

Labor Day weekend and we’re at the airport to see Kelsey off. She’s headed back to Edgewood for her senior year by way of Florida to pick up her stuff first. D hasn’t taken his hands off her in a week. It’s like he’s trying to memorize the feel of every inch of skin on her body.

I can’t blame him, she’s incredible, gorgeous, and I’ve never seen him this up about a girl before. He’s wearing the collar and she holds the leash, but I’m happy for them… and sure as hell hope the long-distance thing works out.

Tally’s been another story. To say things have been strained since Kelsey’s beach party would be an understatement. We don’t talk. When I’m home, she doesn’t come out of her bedroom except to use the bathroom or make a peanut butter sandwich.

I’ve left peace offerings, but she hasn’t accepted a one of them. Shit, if she only knew how badly I want to touch her the way she offered, but we can’t. I don’t want to bethatguy, taking advantage of a broken girl. Plus, god, once I touch her, I know I’ll never be able to let her go and someday she’ll find out what kind of man I really am because of the unforgiveable thing I did. I’ll have to tell her. That’ll be the end of it. And that’ll be the end of me.

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