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“Nah, that’s not true.” He kissed my neck, making me smile despite myself. “I’m not good at hating people, Jess. Hate is too heavy, it’s too much. I’d rather find the good in people, when I can. I’d rather give some grace to others who are figuring it all out, because I’m trying to do the same thing.”
“Do you ever feel like you’re running out of time? I know we’re young, but sometimes I feel like life is rushing by me so much faster that I can’t keep up with it. Like I missed a lesson everyone else already figured out, or like I’m starting over…”
“I get it.” He lifted his head from my shoulder, smoothing my hair back from my face even though the breeze whipped it right back again. “Seeing you in Wickeston again was like seeing youcome back from the dead. I thought you were done with this place.”
“I thought so too,” I said. “Things didn’t exactly go according to plan. I made the mistake of thinking I’d land a big career straight out of college, as if money, a house, and a job would all fall into my lap.” I rolled my eyes at myself, at my own naivety. “Now my mom gets to rub it in my face that college was a terrible choice after all.” I put on my best imitation of my mother’s disapproving drawl as I said, “I should have been looking for ahusbandall this time instead. How will she ever see any grandbabies if I’m too busy chasing a job?”
Manson shook his head. “I’ve never met your mom, but I have a feeling I know where you get your stubbornness from.”
I looked over my shoulder at him, narrowing my eyes. “Oh, you have no idea. That woman could argue with a brick wall and win.”
We both laughed — a moment passing in comfortable silence.
“You’re trying to get to New York,” Manson finally said. “You want to live in the city?”
“I think it would be exciting to live downtown,” I said. “I used to think that all I wanted was a cute little apartment in Manhattan. But…maybe not. Maybe living outside the city would be nice. Close enough to visit when I want, but still far enough away that there’s some peace and quiet.” I sighed. “I’m still undecided on so much. All I know is that I want to get the hell out of this town and go where no one knows my name.”
“You want to escape who you were,” he said.
“I’ve fucked up a lot of things. I drove people away. I was selfish.” I was glad my back was to him, because I didn’t think I could meet his eyes. “I was awful toward you. I treated you all like shit.”
“Why did you do it?” His voice was soft, gentle. My eyes began to sting, surprising me, and I hurriedly coughed to make thetears go away.
I’d asked myself that same question many times and I still didn’t feel like I had a good answer.
“I couldn’t stay away from you,” I finally said. “It seemed like you didn’t care what anybody thought, and that…it irritated me. It made me mad that I didn’t feel that way, that I cared too much. I couldn’t stand how I hadeverythingI was supposed to want, except…”
“Except?” he coaxed me. I turned to face him, and his arms adjusted to accommodate me.
“Except I wasn’t happy,” I said. “Everyone kept telling me I was supposed to be, so I kept pretending that I was. I thought eventually it would click, that I would feel okay. But the harder I tried to pretend, the worse I felt. I hated who I was, but I didn’t know how to be anyone else. I thought a few years in college would turn it all around. I made so many friends, I drank way too much. I said yes to everyone because I thought maybe it would make me a better person, but it…it didn’t work.” I sighed, my shoulders feeling so heavy. “All those friends? They don’t call. They don’t care. Just like the friends I had here, they only want me if I’m Jess the Party Girl, or Jess the Stuck-Up Bitch. Even now…I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.”
That was the truth, as messy, ugly, and hypocritical as it was. I tried not to meet his eyes as I said it, afraid of what I’d find there. It made me feel pathetic, and not in that fun, sexy way like when I was begging them for more. In a gross, weak, shameful way.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. Any of you. But I know I really messed up so many times.”
He clicked his tongue, nudging my chin up until I met his eyes. I braced myself for judgment but didn’t find any on his face.
“I can’t forgive on behalf of anyone else,” he said. “But I forgave you back then. I’ve forgiven you every day since. I’ll always forgive you. And if you talk to the boys like you just talked to me,I know they’ll forgive you too.”
It made me feel like crying. I held it back, swallowing hard and inhaling sharply. I was certain I didn’t deserve forgiveness like that. That was part of why I wanted so desperately to leave. I’d burned too many bridges, hurt too many people.
But maybe I hadn’t destroyedeverything. Maybe there was still something good to be found here.
“What are you smiling for?” I said, a tremble in my voice as I looked at him.
He didn’t respond with words. His answer was his lips pressed against mine.
He cupped his hand around the back of my head, holding me close. His tongue probed my lips and they parted for him easily, our breath mingling as I knotted my hands into his shirt. I wanted to pull him closer, hold him impossibly tighter. As if I could live in this moment, this feeling, forever.
By the time we pulled up in front of my house, I knew I didn’t want to spend the night alone. Manson walked me to the door, but as I unlocked it, I turned to him and said, “Will you stay?”
His face was in shadow, but I still saw his eyes widen. He hesitated as I stood there, the door halfway open, the cool air seeping out from inside.
“You want me to…?” he said. “To sleep here?”
“Yes. I do.” I wasn’t used to being the one to ask, opening myself up for rejection. I wouldn’t blame him if he said no. He’d be right to keep his distance.
But he took my hand. “Yeah. Of course I’ll stay.”
