Count on Me (5 page)

Why did you want to drive me home?

He runs his hand over his hair and again he sighs. “I needed to talk to you—you know, about earlier?”

The way he phrases it as a question confuses me. There were a couple of things that happened earlier. He didn’t show u
p to get me after class and he was bullying my friend. Which one of these could he possibly mean?

The stuff with Eric or earlier?

“Earlier?” he questions, but before I can write out a response, his eyes shine with recognition. “Oh, yeah I need to explain about that too. I mean, if you’ll let me.”

I don’t want to let him. I want to just slide my hand over the door handle, push it open and get the hell out of here, but I can’t do that. In accepting his ride home, I’ve given up the only other way I can get home, which means I’m stuck. Unless I want to walk and it’s gonna take me at least an hour to do that.

You don’t need to explain anything to me.
I write out, this time lifting the notebook instead of sliding it to him. The back and forth motion is actually starting to bug me.

“Yeah, see that’s what I thought too, except I do.”

What does that mean?

He does the thing with his hands again and I’m actually
surprised with how hard this seems to be for him. He’s so confident and self assured at school every day, but here in the car, it’s like he’s a completely different person.

He’s the boy that he used to be.

“I’m an asshole, Isabelle. I don’t even know if asshole’s the right word for me, but it’s all I know. I hurt people for fun and most of the time I enjoy it. I haven’t been able to enjoy anything since I saw what happened to you yesterday. I know what I did today, the things I said, the way I acted…”

He
cuts off and my heart drops in my chest. He didn’t finish what he wanted to say and despite how upset I am, not only with him, but me too, I really want him to finish. I’m conflicted because I want nothing to do with him, but at the same time, being here with him now is comfortable and I don’t want it to end.

None of this makes any sense to me.

You are an asshole. What you did to Eric today was wrong. You say you don’t like what happened to me so why do it to someone that’s just like me?

“See that’s just it. Fuck! I can’t stand you thinking I’m an asshole. When I’m around you, I don’t want to be the jerk. I want to be different.”

So be different.

Things with me are
pretty cut and dry. I don’t understand when people state things like he just did. If he wants to be different then I don’t see why he doesn’t just do it. It’s not like anyone can do it for him.

“It’s not that easy. I wish it were, but this is all I’ve ever known.”

I know all about his mom and dad leaving. I also know he got stuck with a brother that wasn’t even mature enough to take care of himself, let alone a younger brother. I know how bad things are for Kayden, it’s not hard to see when people show up at the house at all hours and Dean spends most of his time slurring his words and stumbling on his feet. Even though I told him to be different, I’m starting to see now that it really isn’t black and white.

Not sure how to answer back, I change the subject.

Why didn’t you meet me today?

His lips grow tight and there’s something in his expression that tells me I’m not going to like his answer. At the very least he’s struggling with it.

“I couldn’t. People are talking and I just don’t want it to get worse.”

It hurts more than I want to admit. This Jekyll and Hyde thing he’s doing should have prepared me for this kind of answer, but it doesn’t. People have been talking about me
, making fun of me for my problems forever, so it’s nothing new to me. I never thought about how it would feel for someone considered normal when they’re caught talking to me.

It doesn’t just hurt for that reason though. It hurts because this guy I grew up knowing, the one I thought was never affected by what an
yone said about him, is affected. In coming to my rescue the day before, he’s having his life turned upside down, all because I’m different.

“Isabelle,” he says with a sigh. “Please say something.”

The way he speaks, asking me to say something, is not lost on me. I’m not sure if it was just a bad word choice, considering he knows how I am or he just means to write something, but either way, that hurt too. It seems like this entire moment is one big ball of hurt and I want it to be over.

Take me home please.

I lay the notebook back down between us and turn in my seat until I’m facing ahead. I feel his eyes on me for a few minutes and even knowing that he’s doing it makes this even more uncomfortable. I’m not scared or uneasy really, it’s just hard, not looking back over at him.

Before I can give in, he turns the key in the ignition and brings the car to life finally gunning the engine and peeling out of the parking lot. I breathe a sigh of relief that the conversation seems to be over and soon, I’ll be home and safe where I belong.

It’s only when he pulls into my driveway a few minutes later, putting the car in park and turning the key again that I realize the conversation is most definitely not over.

“I wanted to drive you home today because I wanted to say
I’m sorry for everything. Not just what happened today, but for every single thing I’ve ever said or done to you. Isabelle, I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I really do mean it. I’m sorry.”

I want to believe
his words, but I know that after I get out of the car and go inside, everything will go back to the way it was before this even happened. He’ll go to school tomorrow, he’ll torture Eric, or even me again. He’ll laugh as he does it and we’ll be right back where we were before.

I want him to be different but what
he said earlier might be true. He really doesn’t know how to be any other way.

Picking up the notebook, my hands shaking, I press the pen to the paper and I start writing.

Actions speak louder than words ever could, Kayden. If you’re really sorry, prove it.

This time I don’t wait for him to say something mean to kick me out of the car. There’s nothing else he can do anyway. Not
waiting for him to read my words, I push the door open and slide from the car, running across the lawn as quickly as I can.

I have to get away from him. I need to get away from the mixed emotions he brings out in me, things I can’t even describe because they’re all things
I’ve never felt before. Mostly, I’m getting away from him because if I stay, I’m afraid I might do the one thing I swore I would never do.

Fall for him.

Chapter Six

Kayden

Shit.

That didn’t go the way I pictured it in my head.

When I saw her waiting for the bus, something came over me. I was planning on just jumping in my car and going for a drive to clear my head, but something stopped me.

I couldn’t leave without at least trying to explain to her why everything had taken
such a shitty turn. I wanted to tell her about the deal I made with Dillon too, because I thought if I did, maybe she would understand things and realize I was doing it for her. I couldn’t do it though.

Even if I am doing this f
or her, agreeing to this so Dillon will leave her alone; I’m still being a jerk in the process because I’m attacking her friends and other kids like her.

Now I’m sitting here in her driveway and I’m pretty sure her mom’s gonna be home any minute, but I can’t move. I’m stuck readi
ng her words over and over. The last words she said to me, they’re flashing at me so strong that it reminds me of those motel signs you see in the city, the ones that glow in the darkness of the night.

Actions spe
ak louder than words ever could, Kayden. If you’re really sorry, prove it.

What does she think I was trying to do in offering her the ride home?

I know I was an asshole to her and even to her friend, but I haven’t been able to think of much else since. It’s bad enough that I have to admit to myself that I might like this girl, but did I really have to grovel at her feet?

The short answer is, yeah, I do.

I’m haunted by the look I saw in her eyes in the hall today. I hate that she thinks of me that way. I get the feeling that because she can’t talk; she sees more than the rest of us do, so she’s seeing something in me that no one else can. Something that even I can’t see in myself and there’s the urge to be around her so that maybe she can show it to me.

I don’t want to go home. I know what I’m going
to find there when I do. Dean’s going to be passed out on his ass again, angry because, as he says, I made him lose yet another job and we’re probably gonna lose the house because of it. It’s the same damn conversation every single day, especially when he’s not working and I’m sick of it.

I can’t stay here though. I don’t want h
er mom to come home and see me. I’m not sure how much she tells her, especially the last couple of days, but if she’s said anything about me or what happened to her then I know being caught isn’t going to go well. I just don’t know where else I’m supposed to go.

Times like this I wish my mom was still around. I’d
be able to go home if she was here and I might be able to tell her everything that’s going on. I could have her help me make sense of it. She was pretty flighty and at times I wondered what the hell she was even doing with kids, but there were good times when she was with us. She did try. It’s those times now that I want so badly because I hate feeling this alone.

You don’t feel alone when you’re with her.

The nagging voice in my head, pointing out the obvious has been with me now for the last two days. It’s right though. I don’t feel alone when I’m around Isabelle. In fact I don’t feel much of anything at all, at least the negative stuff. It’s quiet, but it’s comfortable. Even with her issues and the god awful way she smelled in my car yesterday, she still made me feel things that I haven’t felt in forever.

She makes me want to be better.

I know what I have to do now. It’s the only thing I can do. I have to take her advice because she’s right. If she wants actions instead of just my words then I’ll give it to her.

I just hope it works.

Belle

I’m not
sure what I expected when I got off the bus this morning, but it wasn’t this.

Standing at the curb, rolling back and forth on his feet is Kayden and instead of looking uncomfortable or like he would rath
er be anywhere else, he looks happy. The minute I step down off the bus and my feet hit the ground; he raises his gaze in my direction and smiles.

His smile seems to light up his entire face. I’ve seen
him angry and stressed, but never quite like this. His cheekbones raised, his eye brows lifted and those eyes, the green that before had been deflated, are sparkling under the light of the sun.

When we were kids he used to have long shaggy hair and you were lucky if you ever saw his eyes, let alone this way. I hate admitting it, but I’m gla
d that he decided in our freshman year to cut it, because it gave me a full view of everything now. What had once been long and shaggy is now almost military cut, with only the barest bit of hair on top and completely shaven further down.

I don’t normally give much thought to how people look, mainly because with everything I have to deal with, judging on appearance seems wrong, but I can’t help myself this time because he looks beautiful.

“Good morning Belle.”

No
one calls me Belle. Well, other than my mom and sometimes Tristan. Adults seem to think that shortening my name makes it slang, so they go out of their way to make sure my entire name is said. I’ve gotten so used to hearing it that when he calls me Belle it takes me a minute to process it. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but with the way he says it so easily, I’ll figure out how I really feel about it later.

I blink a few times and raise my hand in what I can only de
scribe as my version of a wave. It’s such a pathetic attempt even I regret it, but when the smile doesn’t leave his face, I accept it and continue walking.

I enjoy the few minutes of silence as my moving forward takes him off
guard, but in no time at all I see the shadow of his body beside mine and my heart almost beats out of my chest.

This is not good. I can’t have this kind of reaction right now. I’ve been trying to live down what happened two days ago and now here he is, causing it all to come back around. I don’t want to have an accident, but I don’t have the first clue how to let him know that’s exactly what’s bound to happen if he keeps walking with me like this.

There’s an electric surge through me as his hand brushes against mine while we’re walking and it almost stops me in my tracks. If I didn’t want to escape him and the way I’m feeling, I would stop, but my need to get away wins out. I can’t let him, or anyone else, see me break down.

“Belle, stop.” His voice commands softly and I’ll be damned if my body doesn’t instantly respond. It does nothing for the racing of my heart, but it does ground my thoughts, at least for the moment.

I raise my eyes in question and I catch his smile again. The fluttering I felt yesterday returns and I’m confused. What is it about Kayden that makes this happen?

“I want to walk with you, but it’s like you can’t get away from me fast enough.”

“What do you want from me?!”
I scream inside my head, wishing that the words would just come out of my now half open mouth. If I could just get the words out like a normal human being, maybe all of this could end and I could get back to normal, but no, that’s never how my life works.

Sliding my backpack off my arm, I unzip it and drag out a notepad and pen. I begin scribbling and I push the pad at him, zipping up my bag and turning again to walk away.

Let him take what he wants from it, but I can’t be a part of whatever it is he’s attempting to do. I might not be like everyone else, but I did mean what I wrote him yesterday. I don’t want to hear his apologies. I can’t believe it.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” he calls to me when I’m about three feet away. Stopping and waiting a few seconds to see if he’s going to follow that question up with anything, I turn back on my heels and stomp back to him. Grabbing the pad from his hands, I again start writing. If nothing else comes from this, I need him to know that I can’t be near him right now. It’s doing more harm than good.

I think you’re trying to do what you started with Eric yesterday. You told me you enjoy hurting people. So if this is your way of getting close to me so you can hurt me, just stop. I don’t like you standing this close to me, touching me, because I don’t know what it means. It makes me feel things I don’t understand and it’s scaring me. If you care at all, please, just let me go or everything’s just gonna get worse.

I start to walk away again,
but this time he doesn’t give me a chance to get more than maybe two steps away. He grabs me by the wrist and spins me around until I’m facing him again.

“This isn’t a trick. I know you don’t believe that, so I’ll let you go for now, but Isabelle Reagan, I’m not done with you.”

True to his word he releases his hold and I just stare at the place where his fingers rested. My heart is still beating wild in my chest and the words I want to say are all garbled and stuck in my throat. Before I can start walking away, he does first and the minute he’s out of earshot, I let out the breath I’ve been holding.

W
hat does he mean by
‘I’m not done with you’
and why did my heart still for a tiny second when he said my name that way?

Kayden

Whatever it is you’re trying to do, just stop. Please leave me alone.

I actually expected to see those words, so when they came, it didn’t even faze me. It was everyth
ing that came next that blew me away. It was hard to read at first, her having written it as fast as she did, but I got the gist pretty damn quick.

If I wasn’t determined to do what sh
e told me, seeing her back as she walked away from me would have seriously pissed me off. I’ve never had this much trouble getting close to a girl, let alone talking to one. Usually they climb all over themselves trying to get my attention and that’s not me laying on an ego trip, it’s the truth. When you’re a football player, it’s almost a god given right that every female within spitting distance will want you. At least that’s how it is in Wexfield.

Isabelle has got to be the most dif
ficult girl, no—person that I’ve ever dealt with and it’s got nothing to do with what’s wrong with her. She’s just not like any other person I’ve met before and that’s why I’m so damn determined to get close to her, even if it means blowing up the entire social order of the school to do it.

I know it’s only a matter of time before word of me t
alking to her gets around. By lunch it’s going to be front page news in the school paper for Christ sakes. It’s just the way it works here, but I seriously don’t care.

It makes me feel things I don’t understand and it’s scaring me.

She’s not the only one that’s confused by what they’re feeling. She’s also not the only one that’s scared here. This girl, damn. I’ve been going out of my way to avoid her since the day I turned ten. What the hell I’m doing around her now is beyond me. I don’t want to scare her, but I also don’t think I’m quite ready to give up on her just yet. I need to know what it is about her that I can’t seem to walk away from first.

When I brushed her hand, there was this second where it felt like I stuck my fingers in a wall socket. I was charged with a current so strong I can’t even describe it right. I shook it off p
retty quick, not wanting her to see me react, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t notice because I did and I liked it.

I’m fucking pathetic.

I walked away from her first because I wanted to make it easy on her, but I’m not entirely sure how much easier it’s all going to be when my final words were that I wasn’t done with her. If she wasn’t completely scared and put off by me before, she most definitely will be now. It wasn’t meant as a threat, but she doesn’t exactly think the way everyone else does, so she probably believes I literally meant it.

It’s another thing I’m going to have to go back and fix, that is if she lets me get near her at all. I’m determined as hell to see this through and prove to her that whatever it is she saw in me that first day isn’t wrong, but I’m walking a fine line. I remember her serial killer comment well and if I push her too hard, I’m only going to make her think I’m
no better and that’s something I don’t want.

Shit. Why does this girl get to me this way? She’s got a list of issues so long it would take me forever to read throug
h it. The right thing to do would be to leave her alone, but just like I’ve always been an asshole, I’ve also been known to be a stubborn one too.

“Did I really just see you walking with the retard?” I hear from behind me, not even needing
to turn around to know who said it.

Yeah, it was definitely time for the rumor mill to start. By lunch
I’d hear that I was screwing her on the hood of my car. It’s something I definitely don’t want Isabelle getting wind of. If she hears it, then she’s going to think it started with me and I can’t let that happen.

“Yeah, I was talking to her, so what?”

“I was right about the two of you, wasn’t I? You do like her.”

“It’s called being nice, jackass. You should try it sometime.” I answer back in response.
There’s no way he’s goading me into saying something he’ll use against me later. He can kiss my ass if that’s what he’s after.