I sit quietly on the edge of the desk as Kent retrieves the first drawer from the wall safe. I don't know where this story is going, but I'm glad he wants to share it. It's the last secret he's keeping, and I don't need him to give it up, but the fact that he wants to is incredible. He takes a seat and clears his throat, not touching the contents of anything before him on the desk. He seems visibly upset, and I sigh, reaching my arm out. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to," I whisper, and he gives me a weak smile, touching my arm softly. "I don't want to tell you, but I think I should," he whispers back, and I nod. "When I turned fourteen, I started turning into a little brat," he says bluntly, and I smile a bit, only once I see that he is too. "I think that's just a part of being a fourteen-year-old boy." "I know... but, I know I was irritating," he mumbles. "I started getting into things I shouldn't have been, but I'm good now. It was just bad friends, fighting... t
"After a while, he asked me why I didn't like him. It was after he downed a glass and was filling it back up again," he mumbles, and I sigh. "I told him that wasn't true, I would have stood up to him if I wasn't in that damn chair, but I couldn't really defend myself." It was now that I understood why Kent really hated that time in his life. It wasn't because he was consumed by the thought of him never walking again. It was feeling powerless. "He said that's what Cali had said, so if I didn't feel that way, then she must be a liar," he whispers, and I watch this guilty look spread over his face. "He was drunk, I didn't want him to go to wherever she was and take it out on her... so I told him that I had lied, that I hated him and to fuck off," he huffs out and runs a hand through his hair. "He threw his glass at me." "Oh, baby," I whisper, standing up and going over to him. That was terrible, worse than the stories of his mother and father getting into domestic disputes. He gladly l
I wake up with Kent's arms still wrapped around me. I'm sweating from his body practically lying on top of mine all night long, but I wouldn't want it any other way. I don't want him to feel as emotional as he does, but having him close is always special. Being able to be there for him is incredibly important to me because he's always there for me. I don't move a muscle. I try not to even breathe the wrong way so I don't disturb him. I just smile at this boy. He puts up such a hard front, like he's tough and everything doesn't faze him, when he's really a sweetheart with a heart of gold. I grab my phone off the nightstand and scroll through some messages and my I*******m feed. He's dead asleep. I'm sure after keeping all of that in for years, letting it out must feel like a relief. I lay with him for nearly half an hour when I feel him stir slightly. We didn't talk more last night after he shared all of that. We just fell asleep, and he went before me. He wakes up after a moment, an
They look like a celebrity couple; Astrid is dressed in a glamorous white gown with an elegant updo, while Barry is tall and impeccably dressed in a smart suit. I wonder if they ever wear anything else. "My family," his mother beams as she enters the room, heading to Kent first to kiss his cheek. He awkwardly accepts it and gives her a light hug. "And Juls, I'm so glad you could come," she whispers, giving me a hug too, and I try to return it amicably. "Nice to see you," I reply kindly, and she nods before moving to Cali, who awkwardly gives her mom a quick hug. She whispers something to her mom, who just nods and gives her another hug. Barry is less warm, more of a handshaker but only with strangers. He just nods at the three of us with a smile. "Lunch smells good," he says as an opening line, and I feel hot anger run up my spine. Stay calm, Juls. "Let's sit." I engage in mind-numbing conversation with them through the appetizer, soup, and main course. His dad asks pointed questi
I think I can safely say I've had more than enough of visits to New York for the rest of my life. The only thing worse than going through all of that was the flight back, which made me sick, and him nervous all over again. It had been a strange weekend, difficult and insanely upsetting. But I'd never felt closer to him, things felt amazing between us, which shocked me, considering the last two times we'd been we'd left absolutely pissed. This time, when we got home, we both just crawled into my bed and took a much-needed nap. Kent was practically an insomniac in that house; he rarely slept other than the night he used me as a throw pillow. Even then, we were up later, chatting and talking before he collapsed. Traveling wasn't restful either, and that whole weekend had stressed the two of us out unbelievably. Tomorrow was Valentine's Day, a stupid holiday that I'd completely forgotten about. Never celebrating it does that to you. I'd have to go out tomorrow and figure out something
"Just be naked when he gets back from class today," she shrugs, and I elbow her. "What? It's a great plan—" "We live with his friends! That's a terrible idea," I insist, and she laughs. "Help me, what does Kent like?" "You know more about him than any of the rest of us, Juls," she reminds me, and I groan. "What kind of candy does he like?" "Kent doesn't do sweet; he's a steamed broccoli, black coffee kind of guy." "Ew," she mumbles, and I nod. "Get him a dumbbell; better yet, have him bench press you!" "Not funny," I answer, and she sighs, rolling her eyes. "Why does this matter? Kent likes you the way you are; you're the only girl he's ever dated. I'm sure he just wants to take you to dinner and hang out with you." "Because he does so many nice things for me, you have no idea," I mumble. "He always thinks of creative, adorable things to give me or do for me, and I can't think of one thing to get him. I literally forgot this was happening today, and now I'm screwed." "Make him
Soon I hear the steps down to our door and the key turning in the lock. I smooth my hands over my dress as I watch him come inside. He's got his fancy black Patagonia winter coat on, backpack over his shoulder. He looks tired; he's been doing school all day and he's been texting me, promising me he'll come to see me as soon as he's done since he left. "Juls!" He calls and then promptly stops in the entryway, eyebrows pulling together. "Hi," I nearly whisper, giving him a grin, and his lips part. He takes in the room, looking confused, but still happy. Like he was in disbelief. "What'd you get up to this afternoon, huh?" He teases, and I press my lips together, feeling my head getting dizzy. I love him when he looks like this, all college student. "Nothing much," I tease, and he chuckles, tossing his bag. "C'mere, sweetheart," he says, and I watch a smile quirk up the corner of his mouth. I hurry over, and he picks me up, giving me a quick spin. "Happy Valentine's Day!" I whisper
We do, and I sit across from him, presents and candles between us on the table. Before I can take a bite, Kent speaks his mind. "You're too far, come around to this side," he whispers, touching the chair on the perpendicular edge of the table. I smirk, getting up and moving. I guess that stuff was in the middle of the table, too hard to hold hands and all. I've come to understand that Kent's love language was physical touch. It didn't matter where we were, and I noticed it before we even started dating. He wanted to sit next to me, hold my hand, or hug me. Sex was so huge for him because it was so physical. Mine was probably acts of service or possibly quality time. There was nothing quite like when Kent wanted to spend time with me and only me. "What are you thinking about over there?" He teases, and I shrug. "What my love language is," I shrug, and he laughs, poking his fork into two noodles and eating them a second later. "Oh shit, that's delicious," he mumbles, and I laugh.