The Finish Read online

  Through the smoke, a shape emerges. The shape has a face I recognize. Carter from Mr. Ratche's class.

  He squints and recognition falls over his face. He remembers me too.

  Awkward stance. Small smile. Terrified eyes. I look him up and down as if there's a way I can predict the kind of guy he really is before he gives it all away.

  He waves. Like, actually waves.

  "Why are you here?" I ask.

  "I live over there," he points past the field. As if I can actually see which house is his.

  "Okay, but that doesn't explain why you're here. In my yard."

  He hesitates before saying, "I didn't know you lived here."

  I roll my eyes. No shit sherlock. Obviously you wouldn't look like a deer caught in headlights right now. Somehow, I believe that I wasn't who he expected to see when he came through that field.

  "You don't have to stand there all night, ya know. Here," I say, gesturing to the other lawn chair.

  "Thanks," he says sitting down. I hold his gaze steady. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they look at you. He doesn't turn away, though I can tell by his twitching upper lip that I'm doing something to him. Making him uncomfortable? Turning him on?

  "I'm Tawny."

  "I know," he says.

  "And you are?" I ask, even though I already know. I want to hear him say it.

  "Carter."

  "Carter, huh? That's a preppy name if I've ever heard one. You said you live over there, which means you're a wealthy prick like the rest of them."

  I never used to talk to people - strangers - this way. But then I learned that I didn't give a shit about other people. Or what they think about me. And now it's so much easier to say what I think. Testing people is fun. Especially when you're not sure of the outcome.

  "Yeah, I guess I am."

  "At least you admit it. That's a first." I thought maybe he'd be defensive. Try to justify why he has it all. Wealth, good looks and a family.

  He's quiet. Closes his eyes. I can't figure out what this guy wants. Usually they're so transparent. Sex, booze or drugs. But usually they want sex. It's written on their faces. But not Carter. Nothing is written on his face right now.

  "You're pretty quiet," I say.

  He shrugs and points to the cigarette between my lips. "You know those things will kill you, right?"

  I snicker. "Why do you think I smoke them?"

  He says it like I don't know the risks. I took that stupid DARE course in middle school. I just don't give a shit about the risks. They can kill me? Good. More power to them.

  "Where were you last year?" He asks.

  I take long, long drags of my cigarette before answering. I'm sure he's heard the rumors. Fed into them. Believed them.

  "Why? What did you hear?"

  His eyes glance toward the fire. "A little of everything. Drugs, murder, abortion. You know… the usual."

  I have to fight back the smile playing on my lips. He's got jokes. And sarcasm. It's hilarious what people will believe. I mean, being a drug addicted murderer is a hell of a lot more fun than the real reason I left. Not that anyone would actually care to figure that out.

  "Ah. I was hoping the sluts of South Water would be a little bit more creative. I see I was wrong."

  "So… is the truth stranger than fiction, in this case?" He asks.

  I exhale and smoke wafts into his face. His fists clench together and release just as quickly. Allergic to smoke? Natural reaction to space being invaded? Whatever it is though, is gone. Replaced by the curiosity sparks in his eyes.

  "My mom went to jail, and my dad ran off with some bimbo to Florida. I was shipped off to my aunt's in Colorado," I say, trying to ease the tension of the moment.

  "That blows," he says.

  I offer Carter my cigarette. He hesitates but takes it from me. Sucks on it and sputters.

  "Whoa, killer. Take it easy." He hands the cigarette back to me. "You're different."

  His eyebrows raise slightly. "How?"

  Good question, Carter. Good fucking question. I can't put my finger on it yet, but there is something about the way he looks at me. The way he talks, not at me, but for me.

  "I don't know yet. You're not as much of an asshole as your friends."

  "Thanks, but they're really not as bad as they seem."

  I roll my eyes. Sure they're not. "That's because they actually like you."

  His inquisitive look says everything it needs to before the words barrel out of his mouth. "So why'd you come back then, if you hate everyone here?"

  I scowl at him. "I don't hate everyone, and it's my home. Even if most of the people are assholes."

  He doesn't say anything, just nods. Like he gets it. But how could he possibly understand what it's like to feel this lost all the time? To feel like there is no such thing as home. There is only a never ending string of somedays. Someday, I'll leave here. Someday, I'll be fine. Someday, I'll be the person I want to be.

  "Is your mom out of jail?"

  I look at him and snort. "Out of jail? Yes. Off the drugs? No. It's only a matter of time before she gets caught again, and who knows where I'll go when that happens."

  "Sorry," he mumbles, like he is actually sorry for me.

  "Don't be. It's not your fault. Now that I've shared a glimpse into my wretched life, what's your story? You new this year?"

  "No, I got here last year. My dad's in the military, and he gets shifted around a lot." He speaks slow, with every syllable annunciated. It's weird.

  "Interesting. You never answered my first question though."

  "Uh, what was it, again?" he asks.

  "Why were you walking through the grass?"

  He shrugs. "I was exploring."

  Exploring. In the hot August evening. In the middle of a grass field. Exploring, my ass. "Now tell me the real reason."

  He looks away from me. Does he think he's going to pull another half-assed lie out and feed it to me like I'll believe it? Maybe he still doesn't understand I'm not that kind of gir—

  "I was fighting with my brothers. Had to get away for a while. I swear, I didn't know you lived here," he says quickly.

  His fists open and close. Open and close.

  "Siblings, huh? I'm glad I don't have any of those," I say.

  "You should be. I fucking hate mine." His voice is low and growly. Agitated. I happen to know the perfect place to take him. To see how different he really is. Pot reveals all truths, I'm sure of it.

  "Have to be home at a certain time?"

  "No."

  "Great. Then come with me," I say, grabbing his hand.

  October - 1998

  Carter blows smoke rings before sputtering and handing me the joint. He still has so much to learn about the pot world. But at least I get to do the teaching. And he's been a very willing student.

  The first night I brought him with me to Chance's, he was nervous. I could tell by the constant lip biting and watch checking. This was not a place or situation he was used to. I don't usually fall into the group of stoners that pressures people into doing things, but goddamn did this kid just need to let loose.

  Who woulda thought that preppy Carter Brooks would come back begging for more? More of me. More of the pot. More of this slightly off-kilter, dangerous world he seems so far removed from.

  "Dude. My Dad is gonna be so pissed," Carter says, laughing. He reaches for the bag of Cheetos.

  I shrug. "Just act normal, he'll never know the difference."

  Carter turns toward me and puts his hand up to his forehead and does some weird-ass army salute. "You don't know how it works in the army. They notice everything," he says.

  "Tell him you're spending the night at Grayson's and stay with me. My parents are gone… again. It'll be fun."

  "What like a sleepover? That's for chicks."

  I raise an eyebrow. "Empty house. High Girl. What more could you want?" I say between puffs. Hand the joint back to him.

  He licks his lips before t
aking a drag.

  "Are you always this aggressive?"

  "Are you always this much of a pussy?"

  He puts his hand to his chest. "Ouch. Assaulted my manhood. That hurts."

  I shrug. "I mean… I'm just being honest."

  He goes completely still then, like something terrible is happening.

  "What's the matter?" I ask.

  "Well.. I'm… just… looking for my balls. Do you know where they went? They seem to be missing."

  I pull the joint from his hand and suck in. "Oh, someone's got jokes. Someone thinks they're funny."

  He shrugs. "I dunno about that. But I do what I can."

  With the joint all but gone, there's not much keeping me from jumping him. The more time we spend together, the more I want to just go for it. Kiss him. Jump his bones. Take his hand.

  He's funny without trying. Smart without knowing it. He's different without believing it.

  "You look like you're thinking hard over there," he says.

  "Pot brain," I say.

  He nods.

  "You ever think you'd like, ever be here right now? Sitting on some couch with a semi-goth girl while our friend is passed out in the next room? Like, did you ever see that kind of thing happening?"

  He shakes his head. "Fuck no. Did you think you'd be here right now? Sitting with the so-called preppy boy?"

  I laugh. "Hell no. I never thought you'd talk to me, actually."

  "Why do you say that?"

  I narrow my eyes at him. "I mean, look at me and look at… you. We're totally different. I'm not the type of girl you talk to. Hang out with. Date…" I say, letting the words float between us.

  "And yet, here I am."

  "And here you are."

  "So what do you make of that?"

  I sigh. "Two things. One, either you really don't mind my company and you don't give a shit what other people think or two, you really really like pot and are using me to get high for free. So which is it?"

  He scoots closer to me, his arm touching mine. "What if I said it was all of the above?"

  "Then you might be lying."

  "What if I said that I hang around with you because I think you're the most interesting person I've met since I moved here."

  I swallow but it's dry. Scratchy. "Then I'd really think you're lying."

  "But I'm not," he says, leaning in.

  Being high is like having everything you experience on high voltage. Every tingle, jolt and spasm is ten times more accentuated. So when our lips meet and his hand finds mine - I swear I could burn every light in the house out with my electricity. I breathe in his smells-like-money cologne and taste lingering cheetos on his lips.

  He squeezes my hand and I squeeze back.

  When we let up for air, he pulls back and stares at me.

  "Still think I'm lying?" he asks.

  I smile. "Maybe you should keep convincing me," I say.

  And he convinces me the rest of the night with his lips.

  * * *

  "So… you're like… together?" Grayson asks at school two weeks later.

  "Um yeah," Carter says. "That's usually what it means when someone says they're dating."

  Grayson rubs his forehead. "But, like, I'm so confused. I didn't know you two were —"

  "Talking?" I offer up. I doubt that's what he was thinking, but I'll save him the embarrassment.

  "Yeah, exactly. When did you guys even start hanging out?"

  I let Carter speak. It's his friend and third degree questions. I'm staying out of it.

  "Back in August. We just sort of… ran into each other. Started hanging out. It's no big deal, just thought you should know. So you don't like… try to hook me up with anyone else."

  Grayson sighs. "Okay, man. Whatever. But don't say I didn't warn you."

  "I'm. Right. Here." I speak up.

  "Yeah, I know," Grayson says, sneering at me.

  "What is your problem? Seriously. What did I ever do to you?"

  He looks at me and then over to Carter before his eyes soften around the edges. "You know, I don't even remember. I guess we've all just hated you for so long, I forget what for."

  "Asshole."

  He shrugs. "I mean, yeah, I am. But that's how high school works, ya know? Gotta work hard to stay at the top. Right, Carter?"

  He's been pretty quiet. Letting me speak for myself. But not stepping in to defend me either. Carter shrugs.

  "Look, I don't really give a shit why you supposedly hate me or whatever. I could give two fucks about you and your friends. But if we're going to spend time together, you're not going to talk to me like that or I'll give you a reason to talk shit, okay?"

  He's silent for a minute before he bursts into laughter. "Dude, you know how to pick um. The feisty ones are the best in bed."

  I slug him in the arm.

  "Hey! What the hell?" he whines, rubbing his arm.

  "I told you. I'll give you something to talk about if you don't act like a fucking normal person."

  "Okay, okay, fine. Runs a tight ship she does," Grayson says to Carter.

  He smiles. "I like it."

  Grayson shakes his head and walks away, "You would Brooks… you fucking would."

  December - 1998

  Turns out, there's a lot of things that can change a girl. Things I never thought about until after they happened. Kissing? Thought it was pointless. Until the moment Carter's lips hit mine. Turns out… it's not so pointless. Security? Thought it was a joke. No one is safe in this world. But when I'm with Carter, there's not a thing in the world that can touch me. I'm not saying that because I'm a moony-eyed-in-love teenager. I'm saying it because it's true. Because with Carter, I don't worry about a damn thing. Not even my parents.

  To say that Carter and I are opposite and yet exactly alike is an understatement. He comes from the "nice" part of town. His parents have money, he has his own car and there's this understated regal, almost stoic poise he carries around with him. He's not like the other assholes at South Water. They whip out their status at every opportunity, just to show that they have it. They walk around like they own the goddamn world. Not Carter. Not with me, at least.

  He doesn't bring up the fact that my house always smells like stale beer and cigarette smoke. He doesn't look at me like his friends do. Like I'm a snake whose slithered her way into his life and squeezed the good parts from him. He knows what they think of me. It's impossible to go a day without Bridget Monahan glaring at me from atop her pedestal.

  Carter just doesn't care.

  I don't tell him that every time he looks at me with those intense eyes, I fall a little bit more in love with him. There are plenty of things I could say to him. That his appearance into my life has made it infinitely more important. That his hand over mine makes me want to melt into liquid slush at his feet.

  I keep these things to myself because I'm scared of how much he means to me. I'm scared that if I continue to let everything that he is seep into me, I may break. I'm not the type of girl he should be with. There's a part of me that fears I'm always a hairline fracture away from losing him. That I will do something to push him away from what we have.

  The last four months have been an experiment I never meant to fall into. When I came back to Apollo, I didn't want to get close to anyone - much less date someone. I know how these things work, my parents are perfect examples of how fucked up falling in love can be. Even after we got together, I thought it was a fun little game for both of us.

  But here I am, wrapped up in his arms on my couch watching a movie, my heart beating in time with his and I can't deny that my views have changed. I've fallen for him in a way that I have only known to be described in those cheesy romantic comedy movies. I'm not that type of girl, but the way my heart leaps up through my chest when I see him - that isn't something I've ever felt.

  Chance Waters never stood a chance against Carter Brooks.

  I pull myself from his arms and look at him. He raises his eyebrows and gives
me a goofy smile.

  "Not interested in the movie?" he asks.

  "Yeah, I was just thinking."

  "About what?"

  "You."

  His lips curve into a smile that lights up his face. "Oh yeah?"

  I move closer to him, my fingertips tracing lines on his arms. "I was thinking that…" I start, but the rest of the words get stuck in my throat. I want to say it so badly. To tell him that he represents everything I've always hated about stupid love stories but that I don't even care anymore. That I don't even hate those stupid love stories anymore because I love him more.

  Four months. That's all it took for him to sweep this angry, stubborn girl off her feet. I promised myself I'd never be one of those girls. The ones who get a boyfriend and every part of their life disappears around them. But what no one tells you is that when you find that kind of love - you want the whole world to disappear. You don't want to have to leave the world you've built between the two of you. If you could erase every other memory except the ones you've made with each other - you would.

  That's what it's like to be one of those girls.

  "Tawny?" he says my name as a question.

  "I think… I love you," I blurt out. "I mean, I don't think. I know. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you, Carter Brooks."

  A small imperceptible flicker of disappointment crosses over his face and then it's gone. Replaced by a grin he can barely contain. He pulls me on top of him. His hands cup my face. He holds them there for a minute, just staring into my eyes. What does he see? That he holds a part of me I thought would never belong to anyone? Can he hear that my heart beats so quickly it may burst from my chest?

  He brings my lips to his. We've kissed - lots - but tonight, this isn't just a kiss. This is Carter sating a hunger as he takes my bottom lip between his teeth. This is our tongues touching with a gentleness we've never had the patience to try before. We kiss with a slow longing. He pulls away from our kiss and moves to my neck, his breath tickling my skin.