Authors: A. L. Jackson
Glancing at the screen, he lifted his face to the ceiling and exhaled heavily before he answered. “Hello.”
These were the only times when I paid attention, when I turned my ear to the conversation happening beside me. I listened when they caused Christian’s shoulders to sag and sucked his light from the room. I was disgusted by it. His parent’s pressures were so ingrained in him, held him hostage in a place I was sure Christian didn’t even know he was a prisoner. Every time they called, it was the same, never questioning how he was but what he had done, what he had achieved, pushed him some more. I’d slowly begun to hate them, resenting them for forcing their son toward something that was so obviously holding him back. Christian insisted this was what he wanted for his life, and I knew part of him truly did want to be an attorney, but I could clearly see striving toward his father’s goals for him was more of a burden than a blessing.
“Hi, Dad.”
Through the phone, I could hear his father start right into him. The words were muffled, but a clear hostile coercion.
“Yeah, I got it.”
“No, Dad…I already did.”
Christian dropped his head, his fingers tugging at the ends of his hair. “I’m doing the best job I can,” he said, strained.
“What else do you expect me to do?”
Knots formed in my belly as I listened to the one-sided conversation, caught bits of the unfounded criticism, the unjustified berating.
“Fine,” Christian mumbled.
“You are?” Surprise loudened the two words, followed by a frustrated sigh.
“Just let me know when.”
His father ended the call before Christian was given a chance to say goodbye.
It made my heart hurt. I reached out and touched him, my fingers light on his shoulder. This was not giving in. This was being there for my friend.
“Hey.”
He didn’t respond, just drew his knees up from under the table and wrapped his arms around them. Christian was always larger than life, but right then, he reminded me of a little boy.
“Please don’t let them do this to you, Christian. You’re amazing, and if they can’t see it, then they’re completely blind.”
The shake of his head was short and buried in his arms. “Fuck,” he groaned in a gravelly breath, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, then cut them over to me with his cheek pressed against his forearm. “I’m going to prove him wrong, Elizabeth. I’m going to be the best damned attorney, and he’ll never be able to say another word to me about it.”
Worry cinched my lips into a thin line. This was the Christian who scared me the most, the one who couldn’t see what his parents were doing to him, the one who, instead of fighting against it and living for what he wanted, ran head first into it. Part of me had to understand the desire to please the ones who cared about us, but I didn’t believe Christian’s parents had his best interest at heart.
“It doesn’t have to be that way, Christian. What about what you want? Is this really it? Killing yourself to be the absolute best in everything you do?”
Lines creased between his eyes, his mouth twisting up in set determination. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Elizabeth. Nothing is going to stand in my way.”
I closed my eyes to block myself from the hardened expression on his face.
He forced a large breath of air from his lungs. “I don’t feel like dealing with this shit tonight. You want to get out of here?”
I looked up to find Christian maneuvering around to stand. It was almost ten, an hour or so earlier than when I usually left his place. Christian would always walk me home, then go and do whatever he did after he left me at my door.
Frowning, I attempted to decipher his intent, because it’d sounded like an invitation. “Where do you want to go?”
“There’s a party at my friend Sam’s. I have to stop by. His birthday was yesterday, and we’re celebrating it tonight.”
Oh, no way, no thank you
. I sat up and began gathering my things.
“I’ll just go home so you can head over,” I said with feigned indifference. This was my safe place, the place where it was just Christian and me. I didn’t venture into his other world, the one that lit up his phone every weekend. “I’m pretty tired, anyway.”
Christian inched forward and reached out as if he wanted to touch me, but had no intention of actually doing it. “I’d…would you just come?” The hard lines were gone, sincere blue eyes in their place. “I don’t feel like going over there by myself tonight.”
Dropping my chin, I bit at my lip as he waited for an answer. Truly, I didn’t want to go, didn’t want to stray from the comfort zone we’d erected around us, but I didn’t know how to resist him when he looked at me like that.
I glanced down at my old T-shirt and faded jeans. “I’m not really dressed to go out.”
“We’ll stop by your place on the way so you can change and leave your stuff there.” He grinned. “And it’s not like you could ever look bad, Elizabeth.”
I rolled my eyes at him, hating the little flutter that palpitated my heart whenever he said things like that. We both knew flattery was really unnecessary since it was obvious he had already talked me into it.
“Fine.”
I gathered my stuff, slipped into my jacket, and hefted my backpack onto my shoulders. I followed Christian out and down his hall. He pulled open the stairwell door and extended his arm to hold it open, though he remained in front of me, as if he might need to catch me if I were to trip and fall. The stairwell always seemed much too tight, the walls like a barrier that held in all the energy that radiated between us.
Outside the air was crisp, the night alive. I breathed it in, hoping to quell my racing nerves. I could do this. Christian was my friend, and it wasn’t fair for me to avoid every other aspect of his life that didn’t involve me. I’d made it clear before that I wanted to know him, really know him, and how could I if the only time I spent with him was behind his apartment door?
His hands were shoved in his pockets, his stride strong, but slowed to sync with mine as he walked alongside me. “So…” He breathed out, puffing out his cheeks as he did. “Turns out my parents are coming here for Thanksgiving after all.”
“Really? Is that what your dad called about?” I lifted a brow. Originally, his parents were supposed to be out of the country for the holiday. “You sound thrilled about it.”
An incredulous sound slipped from his mouth. “A perfect night in Hell…Thanksgiving dinner at some stuffy restaurant with my dad harassing me the entire time.
Can’t wait
.”
We walked a couple steps in silence before Christian fixed his gaze on me.
“Why don’t you come with me?”
Laughter bubbled up at the absurdity, but I held it in when I realized he remained silent, waiting.
Oh
. He was serious. I frowned. This sounded like a really bad idea. I couldn’t stand his parents, and I hadn’t even met them yet. “Don’t you think that’s a little bit weird? I mean, won’t they get the wrong idea or something?”
“Maybe.” A small shrug of his shoulders discounted it. “But I don’t really care. Let them think whatever the hell they want. I just don’t want to go by myself, and I don’t want you sitting at home by yourself on Thanksgiving, either. At least if you’re there, my dad will lay off me a little. He wouldn’t want to look like the asshole he is in front of someone he doesn’t know.”
“So what you’re saying is you want me to protect you from your parents?”
“Exactly.” He knocked into me, jostling my body slightly to the side, the weight gone from his face as he laughed. “No, Elizabeth, you’re my best friend. Who else would I want to spend Thanksgiving with?”
His words struck me, and I warmed from head to toe. That was really all I needed. I slowed to the point of barely walking, turning completely to face Christian at my side. “You’re my best friend, too, Christian. You know that, right?”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The expression on his face said it all. He was all sweet, adoring, had that look that always warned how easily we could slip. Fall. I drew in a deep breath and turned ahead.
“So? You’re coming?” he prodded as I stepped in front of him to open my building door.
“Of course I’ll come.”
He followed me inside and up the stairs. “Guess I managed to talk you into two things you didn’t want to do tonight.” He was so close behind me, his breath rustled through my hair.
“Um, yeah…I guess you did.”
“Must be my lucky night.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the smirk I already knew would be waiting there. The lightness in his tone warned me he’d made the flip to that cocky boy I’d met the first time in the café. I figured I’d be dealing with him all night since we were heading over to his friends’, although I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.
I played along, smirked back. “Yeah, I’m sure it will be. Let’s see what little tramp you end up ditching me for tonight. Do you prefer blondes or brunettes?”
Laughter rang out and ricocheted on the brick walls, a thunder that pounded in my chest.
He reached out and tugged on a strand of my hair. “Blondes, of course, Elizabeth. And did you just say tramp?”
“Yep, sure did.”
“Oh, you’re going to make all kinds of new friends tonight.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were walking side-by-side toward Sam’s apartment, a guy I’d never met, but was legendary in the stories Christian told. Knowing them only managed to make me more nervous than before. I’d changed into my best jeans, a cute, wide-necked sweatshirt, and boots, hoping not to embarrass Christian since he was dragging me along.
I was never one for parties. Maybe because to me it symbolized what I’d given up to make it here, but really, it just wasn’t my scene. The few I’d been to had been uncomfortable, the predatory feel in the air, guys assessing whether a girl was as easy as she looked, and girls competing to win that attention.
No thanks.
I glanced back down at what I’d changed into, pretty sure I was going to be completely out of place. With longing, I glanced behind me. Maybe I could come up with an excuse, turn around and go home so I could crawl in my little bed and hide.
“I’m really glad you decided to come with me.”
I jerked my head back to Christian. He flashed me an all-knowing grin, as if he knew exactly what I’d been thinking.
“Yeah, me, too,” I blatantly lied.
Christian chuckled, lifted his face to the night sky with a satisfied breath pushed out into the air. He appeared so relaxed, so casual as he ambled along and I followed.
We turned right at the intersection, and Christian grabbed my hand. I sucked in a sharp breath and tried to hide the way the simple gesture made me feel. His hand was warm, perfect, felt too right. He tugged me to his side. “This is it.”
My eyes traveled the height of the building. It was much nicer than mine, but not nearly as nice as Christian’s. Ten stories
of lit windows lined the building. Energy radiated from its walls. Nerves hit me again as Christian swung the door open, and they eased just as quickly when he squeezed my hand.
What was he doing to me tonight? He had my emotions all over the place. I’d come to feel so comfortable in his presence, the want inside subdued to a peaceful glow, something that felt like a stronger connection, something I could control.
Tonight…I wasn’t sure. Something had shifted, tilted the axis where I thought I’d found a perfect balance.
He led me down a narrow hall and pressed the button to the elevator. An encouraging smile lifted his mouth when he looked down at me. “Don’t be nervous. Everyone’s really nice.” A slight chuckle echoed in the confines of the old elevator when we stepped inside, and still he held my hand, a gentle encouragement, maybe a thank you for coming. “I mean, they’re idiots, but nice.”
I nodded subtly.
Great.
The elevator door slid open on the fifth floor. Music pumped into the hall from behind what seemed like every door.
Several doors down the hall, Christian rapped twice and swung it open without an invitation.
He towed me in behind him. My feet faltered, and I shrank back when I met the scene inside. People littered the room, packed together, the space so full and overbearing that my throat tightened and I found it hard to breathe.
“Christian!” a guy shouted from across the din of the room. He wore his hat backward and a wrinkled button-up, his tongued slurred.
“Hey, man.”
Christian inclined his head my direction, whisper-shouted in my ear. “That’s Tom.”
I nodded. Christian had mentioned him before, always in a
you won’t believe what my dumbass friend did
sort of way.
“And who do we have here?”
“This is my friend, Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth.” The tilt of Tom’s head told me he’d heard my name before. He extended his hand. Dark brown eyes shifted down the length of my body as he shook my hand.
I had the urge to hide behind Christian, or maybe run.
I looked back around the room again.
Yeah. Running seemed like a really good idea.
“Come on.” Christian tugged me into the crowd, a crush of bodies and music and the overpowering smell of alcohol washing over me in a heady wave. His mouth was close to my ear. “You want a beer?”
Not really, but what else was I supposed to do in this atmosphere? “Sure,” I shouted over the music.
Christian wound us through the room, pausing to talk to a few people, introducing me to faces and names I would never remember. To the right, a small kitchen overflowed with students surrounding a keg. The music played from the other room, and in here, people yelled as they drank, girls laughed too loud and wore too little.
Self-consciously, I peeked down at my jeans and sweatshirt. No question, I was out of place. It was affirmed by the stares I received, the quick glances and hushed whispers.
I edged closer to Christian’s side.
What in the world was he thinking bringing me here?
Strangest was, in it, Christian emanated ease, brash as he bantered with his friends. It was hard to reconcile the two, the Christian I’d come to know in our quiet evenings at his place, and the one I’d first recognized when he walked through the door to the café more than three months before.