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A Boy Like You (Like Us Book 1)(35)

By:Ginger Scott


"Yes, I have, Joss. Jesus, I've been able to protect you with the help  of miracles. How you see me? As this … what? Invincible guy from your  past? Joss … I've been lucky. Listen to me … " He holds me close, his grip  on my arms almost desperate as his eyes look down on me. "You can't keep  testing me. You can't keep acting out with these crazy delusions, Joss.  One of these times-I'm going to fail. Do you understand? I will fail,  Joss."

"No … you won't," I whisper, my voice cracking. I'm losing him.

He backs away, running both hands through his wet hair, his fingers  gripping at the ends and pulling as he looks up to the stars and begins  to turn in a slow circle.

"Yes I will, Joss. I will fail. And I won't be able to save you," he  says, stopping his solitary slow dance when he's facing me once more.  His head falls forward, and his eyes fill with sadness. "I can't save  you from you, Joss. Please … give up."

He stares into me a second longer before turning to walk up the rise of  the sand toward his truck. I stay in the shallow water, my body already  adapting to the coldness-I'm becoming numb. Wes stops to say something  to TK and Levi, then walks to his truck. He sits in it for several  minutes, the engine idling, the taillights glowing, before finally  pulling away.

I leave my sweater on the pier. A sacrifice to the gods-proof that I was in fact here.

I don't mind the cold.

And maybe Wes is right. Maybe I know nothing at all.

Maybe … maybe I have been lucky.





Nine





I am the fool.

So often, I am the fool.

But I also can't seem to shake the memory of what happened Friday on the  beach. Wes denied it, but his expression said otherwise. The rock was  inches from my face when he snatched it from the air as if it were a  feather. When he looked at me, the flash in his eyes was beyond  familiar.         

     



 

His eyes were warning me, but they were also fearful.

I know I have to let go of these thoughts-Wes and Christopher. Even so, I don't want to. I can't.

When Kyle dropped me off at home after the beach in the early morning  hours, my house was quiet. I expected it to be empty, but I paused at my  father's open door, his body laying face down on his bed, his shoes at  the foot of the bed and the clothes he wore that day still on. He made  it home on his own. I was given a rare night off.

Every night has been a different story, though. The drink in my father's  hand is a fixture after games or practices-even the late ones.  Yesterday, I had to help him to bed. He stopped somewhere between his  chair and the hallway, and I couldn't just leave him there. I'm strong,  but my father's stronger-and when he's stubborn, it's impossible to  maneuver him. He doesn't bend to my will when he's drunk. He fights me.  He hurts me. It took an hour to get him from the living room to his bed  thirty feet away.

Yet somehow, he gets up every day and returns to his other life. I can  see it taking a toll. It's been taking one for years-slowly eating away  his personality. He doesn't have any friends. He has a team. And I think  that's why he gets up in the morning. He lives for that team. He sure  as hell doesn't live for me.

He's had two games this week-games that were far, and took both he and  Wes out of school early to travel south. My games were home. I played  well. Nobody cares, though. When I came home, I stayed in my room, or  went to Taryn's, to avoid him, timing it just right so when I stepped  into the living room I could pull the half-filled glass from his loose  grip and turn the light off by his chair. As sad as this routine was, it  was bearable.

I could live like this.

What I couldn't live with, though, was this new feeling between Wes and  me. He was avoiding me. Maybe I was avoiding him a little too. We acted  like strangers in the two classes we had together, and when one of us  would walk up to join our small circle of friends, the other would  leave.

Taryn has noticed. And she's focused on my jealousy as the cause.  McKenna has been an easy scapegoat, and perhaps on many levels, she is  the reason I'm avoiding Wes. But she's not the only reason.

I am the fool. This is the reason. I believed so hard that he would save  me, with all of my heart-but his reaction made me start to think he's  right. He's been lucky. I've been lucky.

He might fail.

I might die.

"You're really so inflexible about things that you won't even shop for a  dress with me?" Taryn breaks into my thoughts. I shake my head and look  up at her. I must have missed part of this conversation.

"Dress shopping?" I ask, pouring a packet of salt into my small mound of ketchup for my fries.

"You aren't even listening to me. Awesome. What was the last thing you  heard? Or … actually, you know what? I'll just take McKenna with me to buy  a dress," she says, the snarkiness of her tone apparent.

"Don't be a bitch," I say.

"Ohhhhh, I say McKenna and I get your attention," she says.

I roll my eyes at her and turn my attention back to my fries, pushing the red around my paper plate in swirls.

"The Valentine's dance, Joss. That thing you always say is stupid, and  that I actually always wanted to go to-but never have, because my best  friend always talked me into getting drunk with the Marley twins under  the bleachers instead," she says.

"I've never kept you from going," I say, my lips pursed.

"Sure," she says back, her expression mirroring mine.

"You're going this year, so whatever," I say. "I told you, I've got too  much to do. The new job, and I want to save my money to replace my iPod  and get some new cleats. A hundred bucks for a ticket and a dress is not  part of my plan."

"Yeah, but just come shopping with me. I want you there to pick out  something pretty, something you think TK will like," she says, her lips  morphing from a hard straight line to a pout. "Please?"

I sigh, but know I'm going to give in.

"I don't know why you think I would be a good judge for what makes a  dress pretty or whatever, but fuck-fine. I'll go," I say, stuffing my  saturated fry in my mouth and picking up another, pushing the ketchup  around again.

"Yay! And I know … yes, I just said yay. But I'm so excited you're going  with me. And I know you don't hate the idea as much as you say you do,"  she winks.

I do hate it. Just as much, if not more. But I love Taryn. Love wins.         

     



 

I eat a few more of my fries and fold what's left of my pizza slice into  my napkin, piling my plate on Taryn's tray, smirking when she shoots me  an irritated look. She'll throw my trash out for me-it's a small  request in exchange for dress shopping.

As she steps away from our table, I move my gaze out the window and  catch TK, Levi, and Wes pulling into the student parking lot from lunch,  McKenna and two of her friends riding in the back. Her hair is blown  wild, and I know it's going to piss her off. This pleases me.

"So, is it another beach Friday today?" I ask when Taryn returns.

"I think some of them are going. TK's coming over for dinner tonight,  though. God, I wish we were going to the beach instead," she says, her  eyes wide.

"Wow, so he's reached meet-the-parents status, huh?" I say, more  surprised than I let on. TK is one of only a few boyfriends she's had  meet her family. And I'm sure he's the only one who has met them on  purpose.

"Yeah. He asked to. He said it was important," she says, her thumbnail  lodged in her teeth as the corners of her mouth flex into a shy smile.

"Don't be embarrassed," I say, leaning into her. "It's sweet."

I smile at her genuinely, but my enthusiasm fades when I see Wes walk  into the cafeteria alongside TK, McKenna wrapped in his jacket. Taryn  follows my gaze, then looks back to me just as I'm stepping from the  bench seat of our table.

"You know he's not with her or anything. Shit, Joss, she probably took  his jacket out of his truck when he wasn't paying attention," she says,  jumping to the usual conclusion. "What's with you two? You've barely  talked all week, and you keep running whenever you see him."

"I couldn't care less if he's with her, T. I just have things to do.  I'll see you this weekend. I'm the late shift Saturday too, remember?" I  say through the fakest of grins. I knock once on the table and  disappear just in time to avoid looking Wes in the eyes.

He was looking at me when I left. He looks at me often. I feel him. And  even with my close calls, I can't avoid him completely. I'll see him in a  few minutes in our photography class. But in there, I can hide.

The photo room is usually a wonderful escape. As much as I took this  class just to fill a credit, I've fallen in love with the idea of it. We  started actually shooting, finally. Nothing complicated, portraits of  each other mostly. I paired myself with this girl, Courtney. She's an  overachiever-student council, cheer, and about a dozen other clubs. I  think she might be number two in our class, just behind Conner. She's  all business, though, so our partner assignments in class have been  perfect, and always done before class was over.