The Keys to Jericho (9 page)

Following an empty summer, waiting to hear from Jared but was greatly disappointed, the new school year, when I was a junior and Jared was a senior, we once again passed each other often going to class. I was frustrated that we were back to the same, bland greetings in the halls the first week.

We were friends, if I could really call us that. Jared didn’t ask me out again, but he did stop me on my way to class, wanting to know my plans for the first dance of the school year, and if I’d save him a dance. Saturday came, but once there, he danced with other girls. We did catch each other’s eye most of the night, but he never asked me to dance. So maddening. It was as if he was taunting me. I was devastated and I think he knew it. I was shy and didn’t want to ask him since it looked like he had no problems finding other willing participants, and he’d easily blow me off over them.

I’m forever baffled about his actions and non-actions.

The biggest blow yet came the week after the dance when I saw one of the girls Jared had danced with, wearing his #55 jersey on game day Friday. I was beyond heartbroken. I ran into the nearest restroom, hyperventilating or near death. Whichever one it was seared my heart and tore out my stomach. I was praying it was death, and I had already been at that particular door.

The following weeks, I was cold to Jared. Upon my entering the gym for a school assembly, he came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and put his chin on my shoulder. His lips were so close, and his breath bathed my cheek. His musky cologne clouded my thoughts. I anxiously mumbled a hello, careful not to touch his arms clasped around me, and kept talking to my wide-eyed friends. If he had a girlfriend, I wasn’t going to encourage him to touch me anymore. I felt like he was crossing a line that he shouldn’t be.

I also started taking a new route to my two classes where I usually ran into him, coming and going, arriving right before the second bell rang, and darting out fast as soon as class ended, so I was sure not to see him.

Evidently noticing a change, three or four days later, Jared cornered me in the hallway, where our classrooms were next door to each other’s. Apparently, he caught on to what I was doing and waited for me, making us both late to class.

“What’s wrong, Kit Kat?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“We used to talk, but now we don’t.”

“We’re not in the same class anymore.”

“That can’t be the real reason. Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Why are you avoiding me then?”

“I’m not.”

“Did I do something?”

“No. We’re going to be late for class.” 

His face was inches from mine, and people were scurrying past us to class. I couldn’t look him in the eye. I desperately wanted to talk to him, to ask why we hadn’t gone out, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Even more, I didn’t want to ask him about the girl wearing his jersey because I didn’t want to hear him admit to having a girlfriend that wasn’t me. That would have hurt more than seeing them dancing or her wearing his shirt.

Despite all of it, I wanted to forget the bullshit and kiss him hard, claiming him as mine, but I couldn’t. He was off limits. We were only friends, if we were even that anymore.

He had stepped back and let me escape, but another incident was soon to follow.

I began walking around the halls at lunch with my friends, one of which was a boy. Jared had a different lunch hour, so I was surprised when I saw him in the hall during my lunch. We didn’t say anything to each other, but the irritated look on his face said plenty. Later that afternoon, between classes, he grabbed my arm, dragging me to the side.

“Is that guy your boyfriend?”

“What guy?”

“The one you were walking around with earlier?”

“No. Why?”

He relaxed. “I just wanted to know.”

Jared said nothing more. He walked away and I was left gawking after him, utterly confounded.

After that encounter, I saw him talking to his new girlfriend. It was a shot in my gut each time I saw them together, or her wearing his 55.

The school year was long and tedious, filled with teasing and frustration. He didn’t ask me to dance at any of the monthly school dances, let alone ask me to go to Homecoming or Prom, so I wasn’t inclined to ask him to the Sadie Hawkins’ Dance, either. By January, I had stopped going to the dances altogether. It was too hard for me. Of course, Jared questioned me why I wasn’t there. I had only told him that they were boring, which, really, was the absolute truth. I just left out that it was torture watching him watching me from afar.

A week before his graduation, Jared cornered me one last time.

“Are you going to miss me, Kit Kat?”

“Yes.”

“Will you think about me?”

I couldn’t lie. “Every day.”

He grinned. “I promise I’ll call you in a few days.”

My own smile was unanticipated. “Ok.”

Jared graduated and moved away to college, never calling me, leaving me to wonder what happened or why he seemed to care a little, yet took off without another glance. He couldn’t even spare a true, second glance when he showed up at my mom’s house for the rebuild. 

I knew Jared wanted to go to college at Johns Hopkins and I didn’t expect him to live in Annapolis after graduation. I slowly tried to move on. He had moved on with someone, so I had to, also. There was no other way around it. I had started dating a guy my last year of high school, just because he was there, really. I wasn’t into him, but he seemed to want to be with me, and that was what I was missing from Jared. However, nobody made my stomach do somersaults like Jared did. We hadn’t even kissed, but that’s the power he had over me.

I had fallen in love with Jared, but he left. I had meant nothing to him. 

I went on to college and became a teacher. I also had a second nose job done, hating that because of my accident, I was unconscious and had the surgery before I could tell them how I wanted it to look. A year later, one of my coworkers set me up on a blind date with a lawyer. Jed and I dated for eight months when one day he brought up marriage, and we just decided to do it at the courthouse. I wanted to finally erase Jared from my heart, but even Jed’s name reminded me of Jared’s, so it was impossible. We managed to stay married two years, but when his job transferred him to California, neither of us was too upset when I decided not to go. We quietly parted ways. It should be more complicated and emotional than that, but it wasn’t, which is probably even sadder in itself. 

I never did get my driver’s license. I’m still petrified. Jed tolerated me because he only had to drive me to the bus stop. Now, I rely on my mother to carpool in the mornings. My dad refuses to drive me anywhere still, refusing to “enable” me. My mom seems to sympathize with me, or maybe she just doesn’t want me on the road, since I killed her mother.

That haunts my every single day.

I had Jared Beckett in the palm of my hand, but I let him slip through my fingers. I didn’t even have to do anything to lose him because that’s just it, I didn’t
do
anything. I stupidly failed to close my hand to keep him from blowing away. That is the saddest part of it all. I let him go before I even let him in. I have to live with that regret and it pesters me nearly every damn day. The more I try to cover up the pain, the worse it feels and the memories burn brighter the harder I try to forget them. What was wrong with me? Why did he tease me like he did? If he wanted to go out with me, then why didn’t we? Why did he have to touch me every time he saw me if I repulsed him so much? I had so many questions that
still
remain unanswered.

In hindsight, I was so stupid and I should’ve done things differently, but all the could haves and should haves can’t go back and change how he did nothing. How
I
did nothing. He’s my
what could’ve been
. But it’s more like he’s my
what never will be
.

I feel like I’m forever running from my memories and regrets, only to have them find me wherever I go, showing their ugly faces, and loudly taunting me. I need some kind of change. I just wanted to make peace with my past and live in the present without fearing an empty future. I was using this summer to help my mom, keeping my mind off my failed marriage, and to hopelessly ease my guilt of taking her mother forever.

Until Jared showed up.

At my mom’s construction, I had overheard Adam mentioning to Jared about going to the races. I wanted to go because even though he’s hurt me once again, I can’t stay away from him. I’ve always been undeniably drawn to him. He’s not wearing a wedding ring, but since he’s an engineer and is doing construction for my mother, it’s only logical that he wouldn’t be wearing one. I found out for sure from my mom that he isn’t married, which is a relief. I just don’t know if he’s dating anyone.

When I got to Spa Creek Bridge, I didn’t see him or his dad. However, I did see an old friend of mine: Dash Calder. We met at Bowie State University in an early elementary education class we had together. From there, we found out we had gone to the same high school together. He was just a year ahead of me. With Jared. I didn’t ask Dash if he knew Jared because I thought it really didn’t matter anyway. Jared was gone. Why torture myself with stories about him living his life and having a great time doing it?

Dash and I became well acquainted due to taking the same classes. We even partnered up often for class projects. Dash isn’t just a baby face. He’s such a sweet person, very friendly to everybody, willing to help anyone, and he always had admirers around him. We’ve stayed in touch by email and I’ve seen him around Annapolis a few times over the years through our schools’ interactions. 

Standing here now, looking up at Jared almost 12 years later, is something I never thought would happen. Aside from this past week, I feel like we’re just seeing each other for the first time since that day he left me without saying goodbye.

“Jericho, this is Kat Merrick.”
Jericho?

I wait for Jared to say something, but his jaw appears to be unhinged and nearly hitting the bridge.

With a broad smile for me, Dash says, “Kat, this is my best friend Jared Beckett.”
Best friend?
For how long? Since high school? It figures that Dash Calder’s best friend is Jared Beckett. What a small, damn world.

“We know each other.” My smile grows as I witness Jared’s unanticipated and swift unraveling.

Jared’s greenish-hazel eyes blaze from me to Dash. As he glares at Dash, his mouth closes with a loud snap to his teeth. Is he mad at me for reappearing in his life? Is he angry at Dash for knowing me?

Most likely, he’s pissed about the salt I dumped into his coffee.

Juvenile, but it made me feel better.

For a minute.

When Jared looks back to me, his eyes fly over me with recognition anew. I haven’t changed that much. Slightly different nose, contacts, some purple in my hair, and boobs.

Oh, and telling him my married name. Yeah, I did that, too.

Jared opens his mouth to talk, but then shuts it again. While adjusting his Colts cap, he shakes his head and looks over the side of the bridge, out to the sailboats. With the harbor breeze whipping the air around us into a frenzy, his throat muscles tighten several times, and his chest heaves weighty breaths before his tense gaze finds mine once more.

What happened to him during these past 12 years?

Why does he seem so perturbed about me? He didn’t remember me in the first place. What makes it so different now? 

What the hell is going on with Jared Beckett?

CHAPTER 6

“Jared, you okay, buddy?” Dash knocks my arm with his when it’s clear I’m not into talking.

Whipping my head to face him, I expeditiously string my words together. “I didn’t tell you about her. Is this a joke? How’d
you
know about her? Are you shitting me, Calder?”

Dash laughs, of course. “What are you talking about? Kat is a friend of mine. I didn’t know you two had met before. We went to Bowie together.”

Kat says, “When my mom was out of town visiting my aunt last fall, her house caught fire. It was a total loss. Jared and his dad are helping with the rebuild.” She shakes her head, darting her eyes to me, before saying to Dash, “He didn’t realize who I was. I thought he forgot about me.”

I
never
forgot about her.

I’m just an imperceptive moron, proving that I can be fucking slow on the uptake when it comes to seeing something right in front of my face.

Even more, I never wanted to reopen this particular old wound, even if I had my suspicions, fears, and
hope
that it was her.

I must be a fucking masochist.

Damn it.

Here goes ripping off the bandage that has been fused to my skin for over a decade.

In high school, my dad wouldn’t let me get my driver’s license until I took driver’s ed., since he could get a discount on his insurance policy if I passed the newly offered class, and seeing that I would also be helping to pay for insurance, I needed to take it. Anything to make my damn life harder.

I was 16 years old when I met 15-year-old Katriona Merrick. As soon as I saw her in that afterschool class, it became apparent that something was different about the way she made me feel, and she had yet to even look my way. I was enthralled with her. She was so pretty, but she was one of those girls who didn’t see it, flaunting it to anyone for praise. She wore small, gold-rimmed glasses that complemented her chocolate brown eyes, and as much as I liked her chin-length, dark brown hair, it often hid her face, which irritated me. I wanted to move it out of the way, running my fingers through the silkiness. Whatever lip-gloss it was that she wore, made her lips an iridescent, cherry red. Once, I caught her licking her lips while we were taking notes, and I automatically gripped the edge of my desk. Damn it to Hell and back if she didn’t almost drive me to groan out loud.

I was thinking about her to no end: during class and everything in between, the ride home from school, while
not
eating dinner,
not
doing homework, in the shower, in bed… Yeah. I was thinking about Kat nonstop. It was so bad that I was becoming extremely distracted and forgetful, having to ask people to repeat things because I wasn’t paying attention the first two times, or had forgotten what they told me altogether. My dad and Hadley gave me strange looks that seemed to stay on their faces whenever I was around them. I blamed my preoccupancy on complicated game plays. Stupidly, they fell for it, which was a miracle since my dad was constantly on my ass about something.

During class, I constantly was glancing over at Kat, but the girl beside me kept blocking my view. It was awkward when the girl thought I was looking at her instead. In the hallways, I was endlessly looking for Kat and when I found her, I followed her to see where her classes were. It was ridiculous how much of a stalker I had become. Be that as it may, I didn’t care. I was late to a couple of my classes more than once, even snagging detention, but being on the football team, it didn’t stick since my coach dragged me out of it after half an hour there; though, he made me make up for it in extra drills.

I didn’t even know Kat, but my every waking thought was of her. I couldn’t explain the reasoning even if I tried. In a matter of two weeks, I found myself obsessed with Kat Merrick, yet I didn’t realize the depth of how much until the girl sitting between us called me out, and it was during the first time Kat looked back at me and smiled. Fuck. That was all it took for me. I
had
to get closer to her. 

“Oh, my God. Are you checking out Kat?”

I looked down at my desk, caught off guard, yet a buzz coursing through me, and a smile overtaking my face. When I glanced back to Kat, her mouth and eyes were wide open. She looked scared.

So was I.

“Do you like her? You two would look so cute together! You should totally ask her out on a date!”

I wanted to.

Kat jerked her head away, looking at the back of the chair in front of her as her face turned a tomato red.

Was that an appalling suggestion? Would she have gone out with me if I asked? I couldn’t drive anywhere by myself yet, but I could’ve met her somewhere. Would she go to a movie or dinner with me? Both? Take a walk around town or watch the boats from Spa Creek Bridge? Hell, we could sit in the school’s parking lot, talking like we did during
class for all I cared. I just wanted to be with her.

I didn’t casually date. I had had a few short-term girlfriends, but I didn’t take them out much. For the most part, they were restricted to only seeing me at school. I didn’t even do much of the phone thing because many times, I wanted to fucking hang myself with the phone cord.

Two weeks before school started, I had broken up with Anya, which was a long-time coming. She was too much for me to deal with and I had no reason to stay with her. She had seemed like a good idea when I met her at the pool where Dash was a junior lifeguard over the summer, but that turned out to be a huge error in judgment. I wanted something more. I didn’t know exactly what, but I felt like I was wasting my time with her. Dash thought the bizarre things she did were hilarious—like in some comedy skit. Sadly, most of the things she did weren’t intended to be funny. She was just fucking weird.

For our parking lot “excursions,” as Carl, one of the instructors called them, we were to pair together. I wasted no time snapping up Kat. There had been a girl approaching her to ask, but I beat her to it, almost knocking her over in the process.

Carl handed Kat the key and followed us to the car to watch her do a pre-drive car check.

Kat uneasily glanced at me. “Do you want to drive first?”

“No. I’ll watch you.”

“Great. I’ll be even more nervous.”

“It’s just you and me. Nothing to worry about.”

“Just don’t laugh at me too much.”

“I won’t.”

I was going to be gawking at her too much to notice her driving. Silly girl.

I stood on the curb while Kat walked around the car, checking the tires for flats or objects embedded in them. Watching her stoop in front of me was challenging.

Crossing my arms, I stepped off the curb and as she walked past to check the taillights, she brushed against me.

“Sorry!” she said, looking over her shoulder with an apologetic smile, before turning to look at the rear of the car.

All my fault.

When Kat timidly looked up at me again, I smiled back without an ounce of remorse, having enjoyed every sliver of her skin on my arms. The sensation was galvanizing.

Once we were in the car, the tables weirdly flipped on me and
I
was the one who was nervous. I teased her about stupid shit, just to ease my own anxiety. My stomach had turned to lead. I had no idea how to talk to her. She was so different than the girls I dated before. Dash had called them “airheads” and “tits with mouths.” He was right. Besides sex, they held zero of my interest and I soon grew bored with each one. I wasn’t into those types of girls, but felt compelled to be, at first, following what my friends were doing. Except for Dash. Nope. For some odd reason, he was holding onto his virginity like it was his lifeline. He said he wanted to “wait for the right one to come along.” This all coming from a kid whose mother was a stripper, and father owned the club where they met. I laughed at Dash, yet thought that maybe he made a little sense. I just didn’t tell
him
that. I hated my first time. I don’t even know how I got a hard-on, let alone got through it. Being drunk out of my mind helped. Except for thinking she was hot, I felt nothing for the girl, but was I supposed to? Isn’t sex just a mechanical act to achieve a release? It’s always been for me, anyway.

Losing my virginity was a necessity. It made me feel liberated from my mother once and for all, since she was the one who gave me that innocence in the first place.

After my first time, it got easier to have sex. I kept it to
girlfriends
, not sleeping around with any pussy within a 10-foot radius, like some guys I knew did. I’d ask a girl to be exclusive with me and when I lost interest, dumped them. I
always
did the breaking up, staying fine-tuned to them. If I sensed they were listless, I immediately got rid of them; however, with only having a handful of official girlfriends, that wasn’t hard. I was always bored first.

Then I met Kat Merrick and she changed everything.

At my football games, I looked for her. By doing research, I found she had two older brothers, Tony and Peter. Tony already had graduated, but Peter was a senior and in the school’s band, therefore, a good chance Kat would be at the games. So, I asked if she would come watch me play, to get her reaction. She said she’d be there. Elated, I told her I’d score a touchdown for her, which seemed to sway her. I looked for her the entire game. I was so distracted that my coach threatened to pull me out. I felt like I could feel her eyes on me, but I thought it was wishful thinking, until she recounted things she saw me do. I was awestruck.

Too awestruck.

Each week, I made sure she was my excursion partner. I asked her question after question about her likes and loathes. Her favorite food was salted French fries, her favorite day of the week was Monday, her favorite actor was Johnny Depp, and her favorite color was purple.

Purple. 

That should’ve been a huge flag for me when I saw her striped hair.

I also learned she wanted to be an elementary teacher. So did Dash, but he probably shouldn’t even be teaching animals. God bless those clueless kids and the years of therapy they’ll surely need.

I didn’t know how to proceed with Kat. I had to approach her in an entirely different way. To be more calculated with my moves, I suppose. Yet, all my planning evaporated when we were alone in a car together. I had an urge to touch her. So I did.

“What kind of earrings are these?”

“Sailboats.”

“You like sailing?”

“Never been, so I don’t know. I thought they were cute.”

“Ha. Do you like the beach at all?”

“I love it.”

“So do I.”

Asking Kat to go to Sandy Point with me, which is a state park on the Chesapeake Bay in Annapolis, was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t push it forward. I couldn’t even muster the courage to ask her to go to a damn movie with me. I was so fucking awkward around her.

Even so, I couldn’t resist her. She was nervous, but I think driving made her more nervous than being around me did. That seemed to calm me some.

“This is a pretty ring.”

“Oh, thanks. I got it for my birthday.”

“When’s that?”

“May 26th.”

“Yours?”

“March 26
th
.”

“No way.”

“Yep. We were meant to be driving partners.”

I wanted to keep her talking. It was diverting her attention. There I was, holding her hand, and I didn’t want to let go, which was strange to me. I didn’t hold any of my girlfriends’ hands. I never even took it upon myself to kiss them first. Not only is kissing intrusive, it’s disgusting when you really get down to it. When I got to college, I refused to kiss anyone, and even now, I still don’t do it. I don’t do the
exclusive
thing anymore, either. I haven’t called anyone my girlfriend since high school. 

When Kat and I were alone in a car, it became my sanctuary with her. I didn’t want to leave. Her perfume had ransacked me and it lingered on my clothes for the rest of the day. There were times I’d lie on my bed smelling my T-shirt. Twisted? Yeah. Desperate to keep some part of her with me? Yeah.

I wanted more, so much more with her, but I didn’t know how.

I took a chance touching her in new places whenever I could. I obviously couldn’t touch her
everywhere
. When she drove, I stroked her shoulder, and the back of her neck, telling her she needed to relax, which I was partially telling myself to do. I even audaciously brushed an imaginary eyelash off her cheek, completely enjoying it and taking my time doing so.

The time she wore jeans with a hole in the knee presented itself as another opportunity. Before I could stop myself, I reached over, touching her knee. I reveled in the feel. Her skin was so smooth and when my fingers dipped under the edge of the material, I got a hint of what the rest of her felt like. Instant hard-on. Even though I was wearing jeans, when she looked at me with huge, brown eyes, I was praying she wouldn’t see what she had done to me, and run away screaming.