Page 136 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

Was I even stopped?

When I pull along the curb in front of her house, I stare up at her window through the trees and wonder if she’s asleep.

It’s almost one in the morning, and there aren’t any lights on inside her house. Still, I tap her name to send a text, but it becomes too much of a task to punch out the letters, so I call her instead.

Hope dwindles after a handful of rings, but then she answers.

“Hello?” Her voice is scratchy, and I bet her eyes are still closed.

“Hey.” Mine is scratchy too.

I can hear her sheets rustling. “Is everything okay?”

A breath of a laugh finds its way out of me, but nothing about it feels good.

“Where are you?”

“Out front.”

“Of my house?”

If I weren’t drunk, I’d be ashamed. “Can I stay with you?”

She’s quiet. Maybe she didn’t really mean it when she made the offer.

“It’s cool. Never mind.”

“No, it’s fine. Just ... come around to the back door. I’ll meet you.”

I don’t bother grabbing anything from my bag; I’m too eager to get to her. Walking along the edge of her house, I sway and then lose my footing before falling to my knees. Picking myself back up, I round the corner, bracing my hand on the wall to keep my balance, and when I reach the back door, she’s standing there waiting for me.

“Hey.”

She raises a finger to her mouth, warning me to stay quiet, and when I get close enough for her to see my jacked-up face, her eyes widen in disbelief.

“Come on,” she whispers, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the dark house.

We make it up the stairs without a sound, and when I walk into her room and she locks the door behind us, I turn to her. She keeps her eyes glued to me as she takes in my bruises. Slowly, she slips her arms around my waist, and it’s only then that I allow myself to fall into her.

She’s the only one who cares about me, and although I’m so grateful, it still hurts. She holds me as I drop my head down to her shoulder, fighting hard not to cry, but a few tears slip out anyway.

We stand like this for a stretch of time, and I don’t know how I’ve made it so long without her.

When I finally pull back, she takes my hand and leads me over to the bed. She crawls in while I kick off my shoes and undress down to my underwear. I slip in next to her, exhausted in every way possible.

Lying on our sides, she reaches over and gently drags her fingertips along my black eye. “What happened?”

I have nothing left to hide from this girl, so I let the words fall from my lips in a whisper. “Kurt’s wearing my dad’s wedding ring.”

“She gave it to him?”

I nod. “I lost it, and we started swinging.” Her fingers drift softly down the side of my face. “My mom said that I’m a reminder of the past she’s trying to move on from. So I left, but I don’t have anywhere to go.”

With all my defenses down, I can no longer blink back the tears. Her forehead presses to mine, and I hold on to her as she brushes them away. The pain is intolerable, but her touch offers me comfort. I felt it when I kissed her last week.

We didn’t talk about it, but I get the feeling that it was just as innocent for her as it was for me. That it was simply a way to connect. So, with no blurred lines, I lean in and kiss her again because I need the closeness, and she presses her hands into me, gripping me tighter, letting me know she needs it too.

It’s a still kiss that I’m nervous to disrupt, but I do anyway because it isn’t enough. When I begin to move my lips, I feel her hesitate and pull back.

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