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His hands clench around the steering wheel with wide eyes and flaring nostrils. He is completely on edge with tunnel vision focused on the road ahead. He’s determined to get me away as fast as he can. To carry me off to some place where it’s just him and me, and no one else can get to me.
“I need you to tell me right now if anything happened between you,” he fumes in desperation. “I don’t just mean if anything was reciprocated. Did he touch you in any way? Make a pass at you?”
“No! Nothing happened!” I insist, but my tone lacks the certainty he needs.
“I just can’t stand the thought of it.” The veins and muscles in his neck strain and his voice cracks with a guttural roar.
“Fine, you don’t have to,” I continue, shrugging pensively. “I just told you nothing happened. So just let it go! Better yet, take me back to my car so I can go home!”
“Nothing happened, but you suddenly don’t want to be with me?” he suggests defeatedly.
“You’re being ridiculous!” I shout back. I struggle for a moment to find the right words. “What happened to everything you were saying earlier? You think I’m supposed to be so certain that this thing between us is so solid and important, enough not to let Vivian get to me, but you’re completely unhinged just a few hours later over the exact same thing. You’re a hypocrite.”
“It’s not the same.” He shakes his head. “Vivian and Malcolm are two totally different animals.”
“Agreed!” I shout bitterly. “Malcolm is actually nice and was just trying to be my friend. Vivian is an evil, conniving bitch who is intentionally trying to stir things up between us.”
“You don’t know Malcolm the way I do,” he replies grimly. “Nothing about him is nice. He’s doing everything you think Vivian is doing and you can’t even see it.”
I look over to him shifting madly in his seat as he speeds along. The engine revs every time he raises his voice, like he is completely out of control. I just keep thinking this isn’t good. I have just taken him back into my life and given this thing a chance, and so far it’s been nothing but jealous shouting matches.
And I hate the way I’m getting off on it. It’s like what he said in my room yesterday; it’s the rush. The thrill of being together. It’s intoxicating. Even now, as I’m furious and watching him spiral out of control, I want him more than ever. I would fight harder to get him to take me home, but I want to go with him to his hotel room. Because I know what will inevitably happen when we get there.
I inhale sharply in anticipation, but I try to maintain my scowl. I don’t want to let him off the hook so easily. He should think I’m still pissed. That thought scares me. Now I’m being just as calculating and manipulative as Vivian. I really am turning into her. I feel a sudden urge to fling open the car door and take off running. I can’t let myself turn into her. I have to be better than that.
Once again, Malcolm’s kind, smiling eyes creep into my brain. Maybe he’s the key to making sure I stay far away from the danger of the new Elites, which just might very well include me if things keep going this way. I don’t care who my father is, I don’t want to be like those people.
“Are you thinking about him?” Emmett asks suddenly.
“Who?” I blurt defensively, playing dumb. He glares over at me, not falling for it. My gaze darts around, trying to avoid his questioning stare. “No, I wasn’t thinking about him. I was thinking about how messed up all of this is. This isn’t going to work.”
“Don’t say that!” he roars. “Why are so quick to let go of this!?”
“I’m obviously not,” I scowl. “I’m in the fucking car with you, aren’t I? Not like you gave me much of a choice.”
I look outside the window at the green trees sprinkled in between the turning golden and red leaves. Gushes of wind keep creating tornadoes of them, whirling off into the air with a hiss that feels as sudden and urgent as everything happening with Emmett and me. I brace myself against the seat and try to catch my breath, but I am too hyped up on emotion.
Maybe this rush we both feel isn’t worth it. Nothing about it is healthy. And I can’t help but think back to my mom and biological dad, and wonder if this is what things were like for them.
I shrink in my seat, growing quiet. I feel a headache coming on, and my body feels heavy from the tightness in my chest. My stomach is sinking, and I just wish we could find our way back to the way things felt in my bedroom last night. I want to run back to that place, and I can only hope that once we get to the hotel, we can find the same kind of retreat.
“I don’t know what it is you want to talk about,” I protest. “But I don’t want to do this right now. Not when you’re pissed like this. I just want to go home.”
The sound of my own pleas is surreal and bring back way too many memories of the other times he has held me against my will. I can’t hold back the tears and hate how vulnerable they make me feel all over again. I burst into sobs against my hands, trying to hide my f
ace.
“Why are you so upset!?” he shouts defensively. “I’m not going to hurt you! I just need to talk to you!”
“Bullshit!” I scream, my voice cracked from the persistent crying. “You could have talked to me back there! You just need to feel in control of me and you’re losing your temper…only this time you don’t have your dad to blame.”
I cry even harder as the words spill out, realizing he has no excuse for his behavior now. At least none of the old ones he’s tried to fall back on in the past. I slide down into my seat from the disappointment of accepting that this is just how Emmett is, whether his father is in the picture or not. Any hope I had of Emmett redeeming himself or proving that he’s a kind and trustworthy person feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.
A painful reality sets in. I may have to leave Emmett behind. As much as I love him, this may be too much for me. I don’t know if I can martyr myself for him. I feel like I have lost all of myself to him. And I don’t know if I am strong enough to walk away from him, but part of me thinks that I should. But it feels like a betrayal to even think it. I promised him I wouldn’t. I told him he would be safe with me, that I could never hurt him. Why did I make such big promises? I made them because I wanted them to be true. I thought if I said them out loud that they would be. That I could will it into being no matter what, because I wanted it so bad. But as he seethes in the corner, I don’t know if I can stay with him.
I can walk away from all of this right now. And pretend that I don’t know that he would go to pieces the moment that I did. And my heart may go cold the moment I do, but maybe one day I would find someone else to revive it. But I can’t imagine anyone ever making me feel the way he does. It’s so cliché. Everyone feels this way about their first love, right?
“Malcolm just left school a few minutes ago,” he says in a deep booming voice. “Were you planning to meet him after practice?”
