"Ugh!" She rips her hands away from the door and walks farther into the room.
I close it behind us, searching my head for the words. Trying not to concentrate on the crazy thump of my heart or the pain spreading through my chest. "I didn't mean that, it's just...it wasn't really a girl's number, Priscilla." Why did I say that? It's not what I wanted to say.
"You really think I don't know that, Jaden? I know you better than you seem to know me. That's not the point."
What is? I want to ask her. Tell me what to say or how to fix it and I will.
"You know I didn't think that, either. It's just easier for you to focus on that and I can't..." She shakes her head, puts her hands to her forehead. "I can't do it. It's so hard. Why is it so hard?"
She's crying now. Priscilla. The girl who can take anything is crying over me. How many times will I hurt her? How many times will I make her cry? "It's me. Not you." I lean against the table, trying not to look at her. "That's why I didn't—it's not—I knew I would screw it up. I knew I wasn't good enough for you."
How can you fully believe words, but hate to say them so much at the same time? My pride is punching me, wearing me down because I want to be good enough. How can I say those words in front of her? Prove to her everything I've always known? It's easier to pretend I think I'm more than I know I am.
"Huh." She crosses her arms. "I don't think it's you, Jaden. Obviously it's me. You wouldn't kiss me at the party last summer. We were so close, but you stopped it."
How can she think that? How could I not want her? "What—"
She cuts me off. "It doesn't stop there, though. Something I'm doing isn't enough for you to trust me or feel the same way I do about you."
My body is a cracked mirror, lines spider-webbing out from the central breaking point. My chest, my head and the rest of me does the same. How can she think she's not enough for me?
Priscilla pulls open the sliding glass door and steps onto the balcony. It's a nice room. Way nicer than I could afford without them. My brain is yelling, screaming and cursing at me to tell her. To stop being such a pu**y and tell this girl what I feel. What's in my head. Maybe she can block out Mike's voice. Hell, block out my own.
Pushing off the table, I follow her. My hands are sweating and I'm breathing hard, but when I try to speak, my voice hardly comes out. "How can you think that?" How can you n not know you're more than enough? You're everything.
"How can I not?" She doesn't bother to turn around. She's looking out over the edge of the balcony. A wind slides over her, making her hair blow. "No matter what I do, it's never the right thing. Never the right key to get inside you."
Suddenly, I'm angry. My fists tighten. My heart pounds harder. My head hurts. I'm pissed at Mike. At Mom. At who the hell ever my dad is. I'm pissed at me.
And when my mouth opens, I can't hold it back. I don't know if I want to stop all the words that start to pour out.
"What do you want me to tell you, Priscilla? That my dad is an a**hole who hates me? That I've spent my whole life hearing how I'm a piece of shit? That I'll never amount to anything? That I'm not worth anything? That he calls me every name in the book?"
Her body freezes, but I just keep going.
"My mom did nothing to stop it. My f**king mom, who is supposed to love me and take care of me, but she loved him more!
"Do you want to hear about how his voice is always in my head? Always making sure I know my friends are better than me and he's better than me. That the whole damn world is better than me! No matter what I do, I can't stop hearing it!"
I feel like I'm going to burst out of my skin. My body is on fire. I'm burning from the inside out, but I just keep going.
"I broke my hand on his face when he told me he isn't even my dad, did you know that? That some stranger has tortured me my whole life and my mom let him? That my real dad didn't give a shit about me either, but I still carry his f**king address in my pocket everywhere I go? What kind of man does that?"
At this she turns. Her eyes are red, swollen, as tears pour down her face. I want to kiss them away and be angry at her for them at the same time.
"Don't you do that. Don't look at me like you feel sorry for me. Not you, Priscilla. That's exactly what I don't want!"
I try to turn away, but she grabs my arm so tightly her nails dig into my bicep. "He's wrong! I don't care what he says, he's wrong about you, Jaden. How can you not see how incredible you are?"
Her words make me suck in a deep breath because I want them to be true. I want to use them to battle his, to break them down and stab them until only hers remain, but his have a harder punch. Yell louder.
"Do you not see how much Sebastian loves you? He's your best friend. It's killing him to think of you leaving. And Aspen? You stuck up for her when Bastian hurt her. You stood by her. How many guys would do that, Jay? How many would back up their best friend's ex, even if she was right?"
I shake my head. "Anyone would have! He hurt her and I knew he cared about her. That was nothing."
She takes a step toward me, still crying, but I can see her trying to be strong.
"It was something. And Courtney? She loves you like a son. Roger, too."
"Not your parents."
Another step closer.
"That's their problem. Not yours. Jaden, you have such a huge heart. You—"
"They didn't want me," pulls out of my throat again. The words are broken and painful and I hate them, but they're true.
Another step. I feel her and smell her.
"I want you. I need you to know that. Those other people—they don't know you. Or they won't see you. I see you. To me, you're everything."
Everything? Something? Anything? All those words make me feel incredible. Make me wonder if she could be right. And she sees me? How many times have I thought that about her? "Why? Why me?"
I don't even have to explain my question because she gets it. Gets me. "Because you're you. Because you'd hurt yourself before you'd hurt someone else. Because you're an awesome friend and an incredible son. You fought for me, and took care of me."
"I hurt you."
"You hurt you more."
I manage to lift my hand to cup her cheek and brush away some of the tears there. There's nothing like it. Like being the one to wipe her tears. That alone makes me feel like something.
Priscilla covers my hand with hers. Heat fuses us together.
"Nothing's the same without you, Jay. Senior year wasn't the same. This trip wouldn't have been the same. New York won't be the same."
It's amazing—the thought that I can make a difference or people can care about me that much. I don't know if I believe it, but I know I want to. I want to more than anything.
I jump when a loud boom explodes and then reds and blues fill the sky. The fireworks from the Navy Pier light out over the water. Ignite the sky, the same way her words ignite inside me.
Priscilla turns around and leans into me, her head resting against my chest. My arms wrap around her, holding her as tight as I can.
And we watch.
I'm still confused. Lost. Mike's voice is still there and Pris' parents are still there and the paper in my pocket still haunts me, but somehow, I don't feel as empty inside. I don't feel quite as alone in it. My words connect us now and give me a strength I didn't know they would. Is it like that for everyone? Trusting in someone and letting them see the monsters inside you? I don't know. All I know is it is with her.
"It kind of feels like they're just for us," she says as more fireworks pop and crack and color the night.
I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow, or in an hour, or five minutes. I don't know if Mike's voice will flare up or if I'll freak out again, but right now, in this second, it feels like more than the fireworks are for us. It feels like everything is.
When they're over she turns in my arms, looking up at me. Not knowing what I should do, I try to step back. "No," she says. So I don't. I keep holding her and we stand there. "I love you, Jaden. Maybe that's the wrong thing to say, but I always have. I said you should trust me, so I'm trusting you and I'm telling you. I love you."
Before he fell for Aspen, Sebastian didn't believe in love. I always wanted to—I just didn't know if I was worthy of it. But when she says it? This girl who can do anything? It's like a law. If she can love me, I must be worth something, right?
It's probably the wrong thing to do, but I answer her by putting my mouth to hers. I kiss her slowly, trying to show her exactly what I can't manage to say.
Her mouth opens and I dip my tongue inside. Then she does the same thing. My hand buries in her hair and hers knots in my shirt and she whimpers like she needs more of me. That one kiss travels the length of my body. My body is on fire in a different way now. A needy way. Priscilla stokes the fire as her mouth moves down my neck, kissing me there. I do the same to her, give and take, her then me. Her then me.
Stepping backward, I stumble into the room. We're still attached and still kissing. Right now, everything is silent. There's only her and me. This is different than any other time I've kissed her. Any other time I've done anything with any other girl.
When I move her shirt to the side to press my lips to her shoulder, she pulls away. "I'm sorry." The last thing I want to do is push her. I'm happy doing this.
But she only smiles at me and then hooks her hand in the bottom of her shirt and pulls it over her head.
Not going to lie, my eyes probably bulge out of my head. My shorts feel way tighter behind the zipper than they ever have to see her like this. Standing there in shorts and a purple bra against her skin. That she wants me—Jaden Sinclair, the f**k up—to see her this way.
I'm frozen. It's embarrassing to admit I can hardly move as she lifts my shirt. I actually gasp when her hand brushes my skin, and then she pulls it over my head and tosses it to the floor. Open your mouth, Sinclair. Tell her this is a bad idea. Think with the right head. But it's so hard because she's so beautiful and this is the girl I've wanted forever. The girl I never thought could really, really want me back . "Priscilla, I don't know..." I want to shout the words and steal them back at the same time. Stab myself for taking the risk that she might agree, but proud of myself too.