The Darkest Part(17)

There’s been a constant rivalry between them, at least on Tyler’s part. I’m not sure Holden cares one way or the other. He’s focused on his art and getting off the island. He’s leaving early next year . . . and this is my last chance to show him how I feel. Make him see me as more.

As I hit the trail, another wave of guilt washes over me about Tyler. I’ll just have to give him time to accept this. I mean, we are best friends. Have been forever. If he really cares about me and what I want, then he’ll understand, eventually. I can’t back down now.

Turning the curve, I see Holden already there, his hands sunk into his jean pockets as he leans against the tree. A sudden dizzy spell hits, and I suck air into my lungs, summoning courage. He’s wearing his black combat boots and a black tee. He’s striking and gorgeous. Looking like the proverbial bad boy, but I know what’s underneath. I remember the feel of his lip ring as it grazed my lips, his hands gripping my wet T-shirt, his hard body pressed against mine. Heat flushes my face.

God, I’ve wanted to be with him forever, and I can’t believe this is finally happening. That it’s real. Our first kiss was so raw and sudden and passionate. I didn’t even think to try and capture it. I’m not sure that I could’ve if I’d tried.

I clutch my bag close to my chest. This time, I’m going to sketch Holden. Have something to keep with me. Something better than a picture.

I take a step closer, and as if he senses me, Holden looks up.

My heart stops.

His sad blue eyes catch me off-guard, the look in them haunting. I step forward, worried, having to know what’s wrong. And then I suddenly don’t want to take another step. Don’t want to know the reason behind his guarded expression. If I turn around now, I can keep our moment. Nothing will spoil it.

But I don’t. I move ahead, one foot after the other, until I’m right before him, looking up into the depth of his eyes. His hands are still in his pockets. He hasn’t touched me yet. My chest is tight, but somehow, I manage to be the first to break the charged silence.

“Hi.” I want to curl in on myself. It’s lame, but in that one word, I watch his face darken even more.

“Look, Sam . . . about the other day—”

“Don’t.” Another one syllable word. I squeeze my eyes closed, already feeling the burn of threatening tears. I’m scared if he says any more, I’ll break down, like a total girl.

He sighs heavily. Scuffs his boot against the ground. Shuffles something in his pocket. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what you thought was going on, or what was going to happen between us.”

I bite my bottom lip, stopping it from trembling. “You kissed me.” It’s an accusation.

“You kissed me.” He raises his eyebrows.

My mouth parts, but I’m stunned silent.

“You’re a cute girl,” he says, each of his words tearing at my defenses. “And I won’t lie, the other day was hot. You’re going to be one sexy woman when you grow up. But that’s just how I am. I make out with a lot of chicks. And I was boned up the other day.” He laughs. “Sorry. Sometimes I do dumb shit when I’m high.”

All the air vacates my lungs. My chest feels like its imploding, sucking me inside out, crushing me. My heart’s beating in my throat. I’ve never heard Holden talk so much all at once—and when he finally opens up to me, he’s wrong. Just wrong.

I swallow hard. “You’re lying.”

His head snaps back like he’s been slapped. Good. “Whatever,” he breathes out. “Just do me a favor, don’t tell your parents. I don’t want the hassle from them over some jailbait.”

And now I feel like I’ve been slapped. We didn’t do anything for him to really get into trouble over . . . and he’s not eighteen yet . . . but even still. “I wouldn’t say anything, Holden. I’m not like that.”

He yanks out a hand from his pocket and holds it up. “You got to get over this little crush, Sam.” My eyes go wide. “It’s really sweet, but almost a little stalker-ish. I see you watching me at school and shit. I was wrong to fuck around in art. I shouldn’t have . . . I mean. I shouldn’t have lead you on . . . I just thought—”

He’s stumbling over his words, like he’s veering from his cheat sheet. “Not going how you planned?” I say, my voice ragged. “Why are you doing this? Why are you being such an asshole? I’m not some stupid little kid. I know what those paintings meant.”

He tips his head back and exhales. When he looks at me again, all his expression conveys is annoyance. I take a step back, feeling the tears about to fall. “Okay, I didn’t want to be an ass about this, but you’re just not getting it.” He advances, and I take another step back. He grabs my arms. “I was curious what it’d be like to fuck you. But I changed my mind, all right? I don’t want the trouble from your parents or the cops.”