Page 22 of Sweet Girl
Truth is, I probably wouldn’t be brave enough to do it anyway. If anything ever happened between us, Van would have to be the one to make the first move. I’ve never been assertive in any way, especially with guys. Not like I’ve had much experience in that department, anyway. Plus, Van wouldn’t dream of making any move on me. His friend. The shy girl who is his buddy’s little sister.
Van teeters like a huge Redwood tree above me, swaying in the wind. The only thing that keeps him upright, evidently, are his hands which grip the edge of the counter behind him. I watch his face, the bright light of the bathroom casting shadows on some of the confliction etched in the lines on his forehead.
He leans forward, bending his head until our noses touch. I gasp, because this is the closest we’ve ever been, except for a few brushes of our hands and knees when we went to the movie together last month. But this touch is intentional. His eyes are severely unfocused but I watch them openly drink me in.
It feels like he’s weighing on a decision to kiss me.Please, kiss me.
Please, please, please kiss me.
I don’t think I breathe as I wait. His voice is raspy and gravely when he finally speaks. It comes out like a torpedo from a submerged submarine.
Fast. Furious. Pummeling its target full force.
Blasting me to smithereens.
“She’s fucking pregnant.”
Who’s pregnant? What in the world is he talking about?
It takes me a second to figure out who he’s referring to. We’ve talked about Lyndsay often, usually just trivial facts about her or that he’d talked to her. Van did give me clues that things weren’t all sunshine and roses between them recently, but he never spoke ill about her or mentioned anything about their sexual relationship. So to hear him tell me that she’s pregnant...well, I’m more than stunned.
He said it with such loathing, mixed with despair. Van is definitely not happy about it.
“Um...wow,” I manage to squeak out, because really? What am I supposed to say to that? “That’s...not a good thing, I take it?”
I have no idea what I’m supposed to say in a situation like this. Gee, the boy I have the hots for just knocked up his girlfriend of five years. I guess congrats are in order? Even though I still want to sleep with him. I’m despicable.
I’m not prepared for the snide, sarcasm that drips from his reply. Or the gorgeous smirk that beautifully contorts his face – in pain and hostility.
“Not when it’s not mine.”
Holy shit. I take an involuntary step back, hitting the wall with my butt. There’s now about three feet between us, but all that space is filled with questions. My head is spinning from the proximity to his naked torso. From the admission of this horrific truth.
“Wha-”
He snorts, interrupting me before I can even get the word out in its entirety. “She’s been fucking some other player for months. Since last May. Behind my fucking back. She’s been together with him and didn’t have the guts to tell me or to break up with me. She’s lead me around by my ball hairs and I look like a chump. A fucking idiot. I. Am. A. Fucking. Loser.”
“No!” I blurt emphatically. Hard and loud enough for him to rear back, his eyes flaring wide in surprise.
I get it. Sweet, docile Kylah doesn’t raise her voice. Ever. But dammit, I will not have Van feeling he is to blame for this situation.
“Don’t you dare feel embarrassed over her errors in judgment or her despicable behavior. Oh my God, Van...I can’t believe her. How could she do this to you?”
His hand rubs at his temples before gliding down his face, as if trying to stave off a headache. His eyes remain closed, head bent toward his feet which are crossed at the ankles.
“I’ve been in love with a cold-hearted bitch. It makes me sick.”
I can’t imagine what’s going through his head right now. My thoughts veer to Lyndsay, wondering why the hell she would string him along all this time if she was with someone else. How could she be so cruel? Why didn’t she just cut him loose earlier on, before all of this happened? He’s right about her being cold-hearted. It’s a shitty thing for her to do.
As bad as it sounds, and as horrible as I feel for thinking it, I hope she gets what she deserves. Her cheating behavior is reprehensible.
My internal berating is interrupted by a groan from Van. My eyes fly back to his, and I see the sudden look of horror in his eyes, his face turning a vile green.
He growls, an animalistic noise, as he moves so fast I barely blink before I see him crouching down over the toilet. “I’m gonna be sick.”
The contents of his stomach splash into the bowl. My own gag reflexes lurch for a second, but I quickly move into action. I pull a washcloth from the rack on the wall and wet it under the sink before I kneel down next to Van.
Laying a hand in the middle of his back, which is now covered in a sheen of sweat, I place the washcloth against his neck. I feel, before I see, his body shiver, the goosebumps climbing over the thick cords of muscles of his shoulders and arms. I pull the cloth away and make a swipe across his face, his hand coming up to take it from my hands.
