Libra Rising Page 8

  I gulp.

  “Like I said, you earned every penny.” Mr. H hesitates before he continues. “May I make a suggestion to you, son?”

  Reed must nod his answer because I don’t hear him say anything when Mr. H continues. “You need to put that check in a safe place and don’t tell anyone of its existence. Anyone. You catchin’ my drift, son?”

  I think I’m catching his drift. Mr. H doesn’t want Reed’s mom to know that he got paid. He must read into something about Reed’s home life, probably knowing that Reed’s mom isn’t the most doting parent, after all. I smile, knowing he’s a smart old man.

  Reed clears his throat and tells Mr. H, “Thank you, sir. This means a lot to me.” I swear I hear his voice quiver as emotion overcomes him.

  I wish I could see his face.

  “Reed…I’ve had quite a few young men dumped on my doorstep for the summer since I’ve gained a reputation for settin’ ‘em straight. I can honestly say that I’m the proudest of you. You came here with a huge chip on your shoulder, but you righted it mighty quick and learned that you can’t be angry at the world forever. So, you’ve had some bumps in the road? Who doesn’t? Son, you need to stop internalizin’ everythin’ and everybody who has wronged you. That poison will eat you alive. It’s time you start carvin’ out a spot for you. Figure out where you fit in in this world. As soon as you can do that with a clear conscience, the rest will fall into place, yeah?”

  My heart swells with emotion. The bond these two have created overwhelms me. I flick away a stray tear.

  “I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

  It’s quiet once again. Finally, Mr. H asks, “You still pissed about that chicken coop?”

  My hand flies to my mouth, attempting to stifle a laugh.

  Reed chuckles. “Not really.”

  “And why is that? Man, if someone did that to me, I’d be pissed for a good, long time.”

  Reed chuckles again. “I had too much other work to focus on, I guess.”

  It’s quiet again. So quiet. I hear nothing except the ticking of the clock on the mantle above the fireplace.

  Mr. H’s voice is lower now. “You just figured it out, son. Put everythin’ you got into focusin’ on what’s ahead of you and not what’s happened in the past. There’s a good life out there with your name on it, Reed. You’ve just got to claim it.” And then I hear a thwop thwop sound, like Mr. H just patted Reed on the back or the arm. “Come on,” he says, as chairs scoot across the linoleum floor, “why don’t you come with me to check on the fields?”

  After the next fifteen seconds, it’s completely quiet again, like they hadn’t even been there.

  I come out of my hiding place, the conversation I’ve just overheard filling my heart. It deeply saddens me that Mr. H doesn’t have kids of his own. He would’ve been the best dad ever.

  The rest of the day flies by and I don’t see Reed much. My heart is breaking. I swear, each time he looks at me, I see beautifully saddened chocolate eyes. I want to think his heart is breaking a little, too.

  The end of my work day finishes, and I’ve stalled all I can, hoping I can spend some time with Reed. But now, I need to get home. He’s still with Mr. H. I drag my lead feet across the road, hating every step that takes me further from him.

  “Is everything okay, Harper?” My dad leans against the doorjamb leading into the kitchen as I wash up after dinner.

  I can’t help but be surprised by his keen observation. I’m only used to him being stuck in his own melancholy bubble for the last few years. I turn with a forced smile. “Sure, Dad. Just have a lot on my mind.”

  He hesitates, unsure of what he should do. Keeping focused on the tiles on the floor, he asks, “Is there anything you need to talk about?”

  Making sure my fake smile is still plastered on my face, I shake my head. “No…it’s all good, Dad.”

  He nods then turns back to the family room, probably planting himself on the left side of the couch. His nightly routine never changes much.

  I’ve been in bed for about an hour, but sleep will not find me. Our house is completely silent. I heard Dad shuffle into his room about forty minutes ago. Sitting up, I feel an invisible pull, a force unlike I’ve ever known, and I’m tired of fighting it.

  Determined to end this endless pit of dread existing deep in my core, I don’t even bother changing out of my pajamas. I creep through the house and don’t stop until I find myself outside of Reed’s bunkhouse door. My heart hammers in my chest, thumping so loudly that I can’t believe he hasn’t heard it yet and isn’t yanking the door open to see what all the ruckus is about.

  Before I can change my mind, my hand reaches up and gently taps on the door. My breathing ceases to exist as I wait to see if he heard.

  I can hear his footfall, his bare feet slapping on the wooden floor. My heart stops pounding. I feel like I’m going to collapse, overcome with fear of how he’ll react to my being here.

  The handle of the door jiggles, the door inching its way inside. Reed’s wide eyes stare back at me in its place. “Harper,” he breathes out. “What are you doing here?”

  His face is lit by the almost full moon, and I can see surprise, hope, conflict, and joy cloud his expression in the full minute we stand staring at each other.

  “I just…I just couldn’t stay away any longer, Reed.” My body is overcome with heat as I wait for his reaction. Seconds turn into hours. Suddenly, he takes my wrist in his hand and pulls me into the room, quickly shutting the door behind him. Some of the moonlight has crept into his room from the lone window above his bed. My eyes travel down his body, naked except for a pair of boxer briefs. I notice his eyes doing the same, taking in my thin tank top and boy shorts. When our eyes meet, I wonder if mine are reciprocating the hot desire burning through my body, the heat now at alarming levels.

  I didn’t come here to sleep with him. Even I know that would be reckless. I just want to be with him. Be close to him. Feel him. Experience him. Breathe him into my lungs, memorize what it’s like to be this close, capture every minute in my mind so I can return to the memory when I need it most. When I’m missing him from the very bane of my existence. When I’m on the verge of tears, knowing the physical existence of him is gone from my reach. Back in Chicago.

  I place my hand on his bare chest, the one he’s not still holding in his hand. The thumping of his heart matches mine, almost beat-per-beat. Pulling me closer to him, we stand toe-to-toe. Both of his hands now move to my waist, holding me there. “Why did you come here, Harper?”

  I swallow hard, begging myself to say the right thing and not sound like a pathetic fifteen-year-old girl. “It’s your last night, Reed. Please…I just want to be close to you. Will you allow me that? No one has to know.”

  He swallows hard now, his face tight in expression. “I’m not going to sleep with you, Harper. I couldn’t do that and then just leave. You know that, right?”

  I shake my head because I’m in agreement. “I know that, Reed. That’s not what I’m asking.” I look over my shoulder at the twin bed. The sheets are tossed down to the edge, one side clinging to the mattress while the other side dusts the floor. Turning back to him, I say, “I just want you to hold me tonight. Please.”

  After thinking about what I just asked for, he says, “Okay. I can do that.”

  But I still see the confliction in his eyes.

  Quickly dismissing my observation, I smile and my head leans in, so I can press my lips to his. It catches him off guard, but he quickly recovers, opening his mouth to meet mine. A low groan echoes throughout the tiny room. The hands on my waist grip tighter, pulling me in closer as the intensity of our kiss builds. My hand on his chest slides up his jawline and into his hair, locking onto his thick strands. His lips move to my ear, peppering kisses along the way, his lips over my ear dizzying.

  “And, Reed?” My voice is a wispy gush, sounding very unfamiliar to me. “There will be kissing…lots and lots of kissing.”

 
; His eyes flick to mine and his smile is devilish. “I can do that, too.” He pulls me tight to him and says, “Yeah, I can definitely do that.”

  Before we climb into bed, Reed sets the alarm on his phone, so I can race back home before it gets light out, no one being the wiser. And even though it’s hot as hell in here, neither one of us cares. Our skin sticks to each other as we mold together, kissing, touching, talking, and more kissing.

  No promises are made, no talk of the proverbial tomorrow, nothing about the future. We only talk about our summer together on the farm, how Mr. H is the greatest, and how we will always remember the seventy-one days we spent together, slowly getting to know each other and becoming friends - more than friends - and, my goofy attraction to astrology.

  When there’s a lull in the conversation, I muster up the courage to ask Reed something I’ve wanted to know ever since he got here.

  “Can I ask you something?” We’re both staring at the ceiling, our fingers intertwined between the tight fit of both our bodies on this small bed.

  “You can ask,” he chuckles.

  I close my eyes and dive in. “What did you do that brought you here?”

  He releases a big sigh and his free hand swipes down his face. “That’s your question, huh?”

  I roll my head to my left to look at him. “You don’t have to answer. I know that it’s none of my business.”

  When he doesn’t answer right away, I silently berate myself for being so nosey. It really doesn’t matter, after all.

  “Honestly, nothing. Well, it didn’t end up being nothing.” Shifting his body to me, he props his head on his hand, supported by his elbow. “This douchebag at school said he had a sure-fire plan to get some quick cash and told me to meet him at this diner. I never really gave him an answer, but, after thinking about it, I knew it was all kinds of bad – especially coming from him. Just not showing up would’ve made me look like a coward, so I went to the diner to tell him I wasn’t interested. Turns out, he and another kid were knocking off the place, and I showed up just as the cops did. Only, I hid and then ran, looking guilty as sin.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I’ve got the worst fucking luck of anyone I know.”

  “But didn’t you try to explain? Didn’t –”

  “Harper, that wasn’t the first time I had been in trouble. I’m no saint, you know.”

  I don’t care how much he talks himself down, I know in my heart of hearts that this boy is fashioned from good. He may come from a bad situation, but I’ve watched him closely this summer. His heart is good. His soul is better. Given the right circumstances, he could shine. Don’t ask me how I know – I just do.

  I remember when I was six and decided to play in my mom’s makeup. She had an expensive bottle of perfume displayed on her vanity. I knew it was only for special occasions. But it beckoned to me. I picked it up to press the diffuser and it slipped from my hands, shattering on the tiled floor. Instead of confessing, I got scared and hid the broken pieces, thinking she’d never find out. Well, it only took her one step into her bedroom, the heady scent of her favorite fragrance nearly choking her.

  I felt horrible. I remember thinking I was going to grow up to be a terrible person. After my mom had calmed me, she explained that bad behavior doesn’t equate a bad person.

  That’s exactly the way I see Reed. His mistakes don’t define him. Only the way he handles them.

  Reed’s handling his just fine. He just doesn’t give himself enough credit.

  After talking some more, he still won’t divulge his sign.

  And that’s okay.

  Time is stolen from us and moves too quickly. The beep of Reed’s alarm sounding brings tears to my eyes that I willfully hide as he walks me to the door. He hugs me with his strong arms, arms that have bulked up after a summer of hard work, gripping me in an embrace filled with more than just friendship.

  “I’m going to miss you, Harper.” The words whispered from his lips gut me, knowing we can’t talk like that. It will rip me to shreds.

  I shake my head, tucked just under his chin. “Don’t,” I sigh, “please.”

  His lips find my forehead, pressing them into my skin, hugging me even tighter. “I know,” he breathes out.

  I break free from his embrace, knowing I need to go. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever forced myself to do. I barely meet his eyes, smiling through my shiny ones as I reach for the door handle. Just before I slip out, I tell him, “It was the best summer…”

  And then, I run home, not looking back, the tears falling down my face in droves. All for him. The boy I will never forget. The boy I fell for in the summer of 2006. The boy who taught me what a real kiss is supposed to feel like.

  There will never be another Reed Faulkner.

  And I don’t want there to be.

  And as I watch out my window the next morning, I see Reed give his mom a half-hearted hug. I see him shake hands and then hug (a real one) Mr. H. I see his eyes land across the road a few times at my house. Then, I watch the car drive away with Reed in it, kicking rocks and dust from the rear wheels, creating a cloud of sandy haze. My heart goes with it, breaking a little more the farther away it got.

  I cry out in emptiness, wishing like hell my mom was here to wrap her arms around me. I wish I could hear her whispering in my ear, her voice lilting like a song, soothing me as she always did, by just being there.

  Chapter Ten

  Reed

  December 2010

  My back presses against the dingy gray wall as I concentrate on bouncing a small rubber ball against the opposite one. There are accidental holes in the drywall from past careless moments. Pop! Pop! It’s back in my hand the instant it hits the wall. All my concentration is centered on not missing my target of one of the holes.

  “Man, what do you want to do tonight? There’s got to be something better to do than this.” Brent sits in my task chair backwards, the back of it pressed into his chest. His head is hanging while his feet propel him in 180-degree spins. He stops his spinning abruptly, his face lighting up with an idea.

  “Hey,” he snaps his fingers, “I bet we can get a party going at Stewart’s. All we need to do is show up with a case of beer. I think he’s flying solo this weekend, no parents.”

  The ball meets my palm, my fingers wrapping around it as I cease throwing. “And just how are you going to get your hands on a case of beer, Mr. Seventeen-Year-Old? If I remember correctly, your source for alcohol packed up and moved to Wisconsin.” Brent and I seem to go through this same scenario almost every weekend. To be honest, I’m glad his source packed up and moved north since I’ve been trying to keep my nose clean. My throwing commences.

  “Yeah, well, I’m still searching for a replacement.” The scowl on his face implies that I’ve been no help in that department. Like I said, clean nose and all.

  Scooting the chair towards the center of the room, his arm sails up, catching the rubber ball on its route back to my hand. “What gives, man? You’ve gotten so…well, don’t take this wrong, but…kinda boring this whole school year. We’re juniors! We’re supposed to be living large.”

  My jaw clenches. His words settle on top of my skin like a bad rash. I tilt my chin up, saying, “After you’ve been tossed in juvie and then served an entire summer on a goddamn farm, then you can complain about me being boring. Not doing that shit again.” The truth of the matter is, I came home acting like the farm was the worst thing ever, when I really could’ve stayed longer. But I didn’t want to act like a wuss in front of my best friends and kept my summer to myself.

  Brent rolls his eyes. “You didn’t even do anything, Reed. You just have the worst luck of anyone I know.” Shit, he’s not kidding. Troy Leery told me to meet him behind Harriett’s Diner the night I ended up in handcuffs. He said he had a proposition for me to earn a little cash. Said it was all legit. But I had a bad feeling, my gut telling me that this was Troy Leery. How the hell was I supposed to know he and another dipshit were in th
e process of knocking the place off when the cops showed up? Like Brent said, I don’t exactly have four-leaf clovers hanging over my head. My own mom didn’t even believe me when I told her the truth, so why in hell would the cops?

  “Doesn’t matter. Still had to do the time.” Brent tosses the ball back to me, and I drop it beside me on the bed, no longer interested in my mindless game. “What’s Kylie doing?”

  The question earns me another eye roll. “Probably with her boyfriend. I swear, ever since she hooked up with Connor, we never see her anymore.” He crosses his arms on the top of the chair, propping his chin on his forearm. “God, they’re like joined at the hip or something.”

  I chuckle. “It’s bound to happen to all of us sooner or later. Besides, Connor’s a good dude.”

  Brent’s eyebrows furrow. “Whatever.” He doesn’t fool me with his blasé comment. Somewhere in the last year, he’s developed a thing for Kylie and thinks I haven’t noticed. I’ve noticed. Lately, he’s been hooking up with all kinds of girls. I think in his sick, twisted sort of way, he thinks this might cause Kylie to take notice. But his actions seemed to have backfired. Just a couple of days ago, she mentioned to me that she thinks he’s turning into a “whorish asshole.” He’ll eventually learn, so, for now, I keep my mouth shut.

  As for me, I find myself comparing every girl in our school to Harper, so my lack of interest in anyone who has boobs and a vagina is a detriment of this past summer. Even though she’s a couple of hours away and fully unaware of the power she yields over me, it’s like she’s around every corner, taunting me, daring me to discover someone who is equally as interesting. It’s not like I’m holding out thinking I might see her again, but no one comes close to holding my interest after knowing her. It’s really fucking with my head, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

  We both hear the vibrations of his cell phone across the top of my desk. Brent wheels himself over to pick it up. He taps his screen a few times and a huge grin spreads across his face. “Score! Looks like the party’s already in full swing at Stewart’s, after all.” Brent hops up and shoves his phone into his pocket, a questioning expression on his face. “You coming?”