Falling to Pieces Page 3

  “No, you told me bits and pieces,” Billie clarified. “I still don’t know the whole story.”

  “Well, that’s more than I’ve told anyone else,” I say. The entire truth is something I can’t say out loud. It is something I never want to admit to anyone. I’ve been keeping the secret for so long it has become a part of me, and I’m not ready to let it go.

  “That’s the problem, Ivy. You’re afraid to let anyone in, but you need to or you’re never going to be happy.”

  “I’m happy now.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Are you really?” Billie fastens me with a questioning look.

  I lower my gaze. “Yes.”

  “If you say so.” Billie doesn’t sound convinced at all.

  “But I am also tired, so I’m gonna head off to bed.” I walk past Billie toward the hallway.

  “By the way,” Billie calls after me. “I like the outfit. It’s quite an impression you were trying to make for the boy who is just a friend.”

  I bristle from her words and scurry into my bedroom. When I get inside I close the door and attempt to lower my racing heartbeat. Glancing at my reflection, I take in my outfit, my sleek hair, and the touch of makeup I hurriedly applied while Asher waited. It makes me wonder if Billie is right. I mean, why did I go to so much trouble to look nice for Asher? Of course I’m physically attracted to him. It’s no secret that he’s sexy. I’d have to be dead not to notice that. In high school he was the boy every girl was secretly in love with. But it’s never been like that for me and Asher. Even though I find him good-looking, I’ve never really desired anything more than friendship with him. Mostly because I’ve seen how easily he discards the girls he dates. I didn’t want to date Asher, just to lose him the next day. Staying strictly friends ensured that I could keep him in my life, and he didn't seem interested in anything more with me either. He was always sharing his latest crush with me, filling me in on the details of his dates and taking me for rides on his motorcycle. There were even times when I wondered if he noticed I wasn’t one of his guy friends.

  Although now that he mentioned it, he did used to pester me to go out with him. But I always thought it was in jest. Asher isn’t known for being serious, especially when it comes to girls. However, tonight he seemed serious, and it concerns me. The way he looked at me when he shared about our relationship to Billie caused my insides to coil into tiny knots.

  It’s true that I’ve missed Asher so much since he went away to school, and when I saw him tonight my feelings were so conflicted. I wasn’t prepared for the rush I felt when he touched me, or the desire that snuck up on me at seeing him again.

  I groan and fling myself on the bed, wishing he had never come to see me at all. The last thing I need is to start having feelings for a guy I can never be with. Even if I take Billie’s advice and share my secret with him, it won’t make anything better. In fact, I’m sure that it would make everything worse. I’m positive that if Asher knew the truth he’d never want to speak to me again. Right now he still believes in me. Even when everyone else turned their back on me he refused to do that, which is so weird, since my mistake cost him the most.

  I can’t stand the thought of him finding out that everyone else was right; that he never should’ve trusted me, and that all I am is a liar. Rolling over on my bed, I lay my arm across my face and stare up at the ceiling.

  I have totally crashed from the high I felt on the bike, and now I’m dangerously close to bursting into tears. But I shove them down, refusing to give in. I take a deep breath and blink a few times. I force myself to think happy thoughts, to block out painful memories. It’s a skill I’ve perfected over the years. Within a few moments, the burning in my eyes and throat subsides. I remind myself for the umpteenth time that the person who hurt me can’t do it anymore, so there’s no reason to worry. Then I get up and change into my pajamas, determined not to let Asher get under my skin. And more importantly, to keep old wounds hidden and painful memories buried.

  4

  Asher

  “Asher, is that you?” Mom calls from the family room when I step into the entryway of our house. The familiar scent of potpourri fills my senses the minute I close the door. My mom is obsessed with smells. She is constantly using those scented wall plug-ins, candles and potpourri jars. There is nowhere you can go in the house without being assaulted by a thousand different smells. It drives my dad crazy, but I guess he realizes there is no stopping her. In high school I used to worry that I smelled like a girl when I got to school, because the overpowering smell clung to my clothes.

  “Yeah, Mom.” I walk into the family room to find Mom wearing sweatpants and sitting on the couch watching TV. She’s usually not up this late, so I raise an eyebrow. “You weren’t waiting up for me, were you?”

  Mom shifts positions and says defensively, “No.”

  I sit next to her and smile. She’s always been a little overprotective. My friends used to tease me about it all the time, and I kind of resented her for it. I think that’s why I first decided to get my bike. It was just a way to freak my mom out, but then I ended up loving it so much. “You totally were. Mom, I’ve been out of the house for a year. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know.” Mom faces me, tucking her legs closer to her body. I notice a few grey strands in her golden brown hair, and it surprises me. My mom has always been the youngest mom of all my friends. She was only twenty when she had me. She and dad were high school sweethearts and got married right after graduation. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t still worry about you.”

  “No, I imagine you’ll spend the rest of your life worrying,” I say, a little irritated.

  “You sound like your brother.” A small smile passes over her pale lips. Mom usually wears a lot of makeup, even though she doesn’t need to, but right now her face is scrubbed clean.

  “That’s different. You should worry about Reece. He’s a troublemaker.” I think about my younger brother. At sixteen he’s already gotten in more trouble than I have ever gotten into.

  Mom laughs. “Seriously. That kid’s gonna be the death of me.”

  “See, maybe you should have lightened up on me a bit and saved your energy for him.” I wink at her.

  She places a hand on my arm, and her dark lacquered nails shine from the dim light of the nearby lamp. “So, where did you run off tonight? Did you see any of your old friends?”

  I simply nod, and hope she’ll leave the questioning at that.

  “Who?”

  No such luck.

  I shrug, uneasy. “Just an old friend.”

  “Oh Asher, please tell me you didn’t go see her.” Mom’s brown eyes harden.

  My stomach tightens at the way she says "her" like she’s referring to the devil. “Mom, I’m nineteen. I can hang out with whoever I want.”

  “But why do you want to see her after what she did?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand.” I stand up abruptly, not wishing to continue this conversation. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Asher,” mom calls after me, but I don’t turn around. I race up the stairs to my old room. When I get inside I slam the door in frustration, and the window behind me rattles with the force of it. Immediately the door across the hall pop opens, and I feel guilty. I shouldn’t be throwing a fit like a little kid. Rapping sounds on my door, and I hope it’s not Mom, or worse yet, Dad.

  “What?” I ask wearily.

  “Can I come in?” It’s Reece.

  “Fine.”

  The door shoots open and Reece pokes his head inside. While I favor my dad with my blond hair and blue eyes, Reece got Mom’s dark hair and eyes. We really don’t look much alike, and when we were younger I used to tease him that he was adopted. I even threatened to drop him off at an orphanage one day when he wouldn’t stop bugging me.

  “What’s going on, dude?” Reece swaggers into my room, his jeans sagging down so far I can see his boxers from under his wrinkled t-shirt. He plops down on the
edge of my bed. “Mom piss you off or something?”

  “Why do you care?” Reece and I have never gotten along very well. We aren’t just different in appearances. We’re different in every way. I glance over at my brother now and notice his wavy brown hair falling over his ears, and his unkempt t-shirt and baggy jeans. I’ve always worn my hair short, shaved close to my head, and if my jeans sag I wear a belt. I’m the athletic one and will play any sport I can. Dad used to joke that I was most comfortable with a ball in my hand. It didn’t matter which one either. I’ve played football, baseball and basketball. Reece, on the other hand, would rather play video or computer games. It’s not that he lacks athletic ability, it’s just that he isn’t interested in them. I think that’s one of the reasons Mom and Dad worry so much about him. Not that I blame them. The kids Reece chooses to hang with aren’t exactly the best influences. I won’t be surprised if they all turn out to be druggies.

  “Whatever, dude.” Reece holds up his hands in surrender. “You just slammed your door and woke up the whole house. Excuse me for my brotherly concern.”

  I snort. “When did this brotherly concern come about?”

  “Just now, dude.” He winks, and it actually makes me smile.

  “Okay, yeah, I’ll bite.” I sit down next to him, and take a deep breath. “I went to see Ivy tonight and Mom got upset.”

  “Dude,” Reece breathes.

  “Do you ever say a sentence without the word ‘dude’ in it?”

  “Not if I can help it, dude.”

  I groan and run a hand over my face. “Never mind, this was a bad idea.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, d—” Reece clamps his mouth shut for a minute and then starts again. “It’s just that I don’t know why you would bother going to see her again.”

  “She’s my friend.”

  “With benefits?” Reece cocks an eyebrow.

  I smack him in the arm. “Seriously, you need to get your mind out of the gutter. And if you must know, she’s just a friend. We’ve never even kissed.”

  “Really?” Reece looks genuinely shocked. “After what happened, I think we all assumed you were together.”

  “It doesn’t mean I don’t care about her,” I clarify.

  Reece is silent for a minute, and I think he might’ve stopped listening. But when I look at him his eyebrows are drawn together in a pensive look. “Did she ever tell you why she lied to you?”

  “She didn’t lie to me, Reece.”

  “Dude, the whole town knows she made up that story about Cam beating her up. Why are you so hard-up to believe it?”

  “I saw her. She was hurt.” I stand and pace the room. “I don’t care that Cam denied it. I don’t care that everyone said she was lying. I know he hurt her, and I don’t regret what I did. I’m not walking away from her.”

  “I don’t know, dude. I think that girl’s playing you.”

  I wave him away. “Reece, just please get out of my room.”

  “Okay, fine. But I’m only trying to help.” Reece stands up.

  “I don’t need it. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I hope so.” With that, Reece walks out of the room. The minute he’s gone I start to pull off my t-shirt. When the thin material rakes across my face, I catch a whiff of Ivy’s floral scent. I fling the shirt into the hamper, and switch on the rotating fan that sits in the corner of my room. It’s so hot upstairs that I’m beginning to sweat, and I welcome the cool breeze that emanates from the fan. I walk to the window and stare out at the black sky, remembering the night when Ivy and I went to that rock concert. It took me weeks to convince Ivy to go with me, and I still think she only said yes because it would mean a chance to ride on my bike for hours. At least that's sort of how I sold it to her. I'll never forget the look on her face that night — how alive and excited she was.

  "I can't believe I'm actually doing this," Ivy said as we ran from her house cloaked in darkness.

  "It's not too late to change your mind." Even though I knew it was the right thing to say, I secretly hoped she wouldn't take the bait. I was looking forward to an entire night alone with her. It didn't happen that often. We usually were together with a group.

  She bit her lip, mulling over the prospect. The streetlight sliced across her smooth skin and caused her blue eyes to sparkle. Her cheeks and nose were flushed, and her hair circled around her face from the slight breeze. Then her eyes caught sight of my bike, and she raises her brows. "And give up an opportunity to ride for hours? I don't think so."

  "Ride for hours, huh?" I pulled on one of the belt loops on her jeans, yanking her toward me. "I like the sound of that." I winked at her.

  She scrunched up her nose, understanding my innuendo. "Don't be a perv. You know what I mean."

  "Yeah, I do," I conceded, releasing her. "But you can't blame a guy for trying."

  "I wouldn't recognize you if you didn't." We got to my bike, and she reached for the helmet she always used. I watched as she pulled it over her head, tucking her blond hair inside.

  "You know you love it." I circled her waist and jerked her forward until her chest bumped mine. Only she didn't pull away. Instead, she threw her head back exposing her neck, and she laughed.

  I loved when Ivy relaxed like this. It didn't happen often, but when it did I saw a side of her I longed for all the time.

  "You're so full of yourself." She grinned, pushing me with the palm of her hands. "Besides, what would Peyton say?"

  I was taken aback by her words. "What does Peyton have to do with anything?"

  She glanced up at me. "I thought you liked her?"

  My stomach knotted. I only said I like Peyton because Ivy confided that she had a thing for Cam. It almost killed me. I was kind of hoping this would be the summer that she and I finally got together. I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I guess I do." Feeling bold, I leaned in close to Ivy. "But I don't see Peyton here, do you?"

  Ivy moved back, her butt bumping my bike. A nervous laugh escaped through her lips. "Are we going to this concert or not?"

  I smiled, reaching around her back for my helmet. My hand grazed her side as I snatched the helmet in my fingers. Fighting the urge to grab her and kiss her, I swallowed hard and stepped away. After putting on my helmet, I got on my bike. When Ivy climbed on behind me, my palms filled with moisture. This was the real reason I kept inviting Ivy on my bike. I always acted like it was a selfless gesture, like I was helping her out. Ever since I found out how much Ivy loved to ride on my motorcycle, I offered to take her on it all the time. But really I just loved to feel her arms wrapped around me. I loved to feel her fingers bunched in my shirt and her chin pressed against my shoulder.

  That night at the concert was one of the best nights of my life. We had so much fun. Ivy danced to the music with abandon, letting loose in a way I'd never seen her do before. A couple of times she even allowed me to hold her close. It was like I had finally gotten her to take down her walls and defenses. It was the first time I'd seen her look really happy, without those sad clouds in her eyes. It gave me hope for us.

  However, her mom found out that she'd snuck out, and she got grounded. I didn't see her for a whole month. If only she had gotten grounded during the school year and not in the summer, then we still would’ve seen each other. It was during that month that I started dating Peyton. I knew it was a dumb move even then, but I was bored and she kept pushing herself on me. Not the best excuse, but it's the truth. That ended up being my longest relationship, and she was completely jealous of Ivy. Therefore, Ivy and I hardly saw each other for months, and at some point she ended up getting together with Cam. I often wonder what would have happened that summer if we had never gone to that concert. Maybe it would have prevented the series of events that happened afterward. Perhaps, but I’ll never know.

  I wake up, a faint dream of Ivy lingering at the back of my mind. For a minute I try to fall back asleep so I can fully experience the dream. If it’s about Ivy I want to remember it. Only I can’t get back t
o it, so I toss my covers off, and hop out of bed. After putting on a shirt and a pair of pants, I head downstairs. The scent of bacon drifts from the kitchen, beckoning like fingers drawing me forward. I think bacon is one of the few smells that can overpower the potpourri, and for that I’m grateful.

  When my feet hit the tile in the kitchen, Mom’s head whips in my direction from where she stands over the stove. A red apron is tied around her waist covering her sweats, and her hair is pulled back in a clip.

  “Good morning,” she says, moving the spatula over the bacon sizzling in the pan.

  “No work today, Mom?” I feel a little disappointed. I assumed Mom would be busy all day at the office where she works as a legal secretary. After I got home last night I realized that I never got Ivy’s phone number. My plan is to try to catch Ivy at her apartment again, and I seriously don’t feel like having to explain that to Mom.

  “Oh, no, I’m going into the office in a little bit. I just thought I’d make you a little welcome home breakfast first.” She smiles at me like I’m five years old, and I give her a smile back just to appease her.

  I scoot into a chair at the breakfast nook, and Mom brings me a plate piled high with eggs and bacon. “Coffee will be ready in a minute.” The coffee maker rumbles from the counter.

  I take a bite of the piping hot eggs, and they burn my tongue. After swiping a napkin across my mouth, I ask, “Did Dad already take off?”

  “Yeah, you have to wake up early to catch him, you know that.” Mom slides a mug of steaming coffee in front of me.

  I nod, knowing she’s right. Dad’s in construction and he goes to work before the sun comes up sometimes, especially in the summer when it’s hot.

  “Enjoy your breakfast.” Mom squeezes my shoulder with her hand. “I’m going to change. Let Reece know there’s more for him whenever he gets up.”