A Grateful Kind of Love Page 2

  “Yes, let’s go,” he says to me. “See ya, Buchanan,” he says to Danny.

  Danny clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. See ya, Porter.”

  I look toward Danny, somewhat apologetically, somewhat embarrassed. “Bye,” I say quickly before walking to Landon.

  I don’t say anything to Landon as I follow him to his truck, but with each step, I become angrier.

  Once inside his vehicle, I turn to face him. “What was that all about?” I snap.

  “What?” He feigns innocence, and it infuriates me more.

  “Why’d you have to come and get me now? We haven’t even been here that long.”

  He starts the truck’s engine and backs up before heading out of the field.

  “We stayed long enough,” he says matter-of-factly. “Buckle up.”

  I snap my seat belt in with a huff and cross my arms in front of my chest. “Landon, why did you do that? You obviously saw that I was about to kiss Danny. You couldn’t have waited two seconds?”

  He chuckles. “Two seconds. Yeah, that sounds about right for Danny boy.”

  “You know what I mean. Why couldn’t you have waited? You were over there, making out with Cassie, but I’m not allowed to kiss anyone? How is that fair?”

  “Life’s not fair, Ames. You just gotta get used to that fact.” He speeds onto the abandoned country road.

  “Ugh,” I groan. “I’m so mad at you, Landon. You know I like Danny. I can’t believe you would ruin that for me.”

  “Danny’s a player. You don’t want him.”

  “You’re a player. Should I have warned Cassie?”

  “Cassie knows. She just won’t listen.”

  “You don’t know Danny. He’s nice and sweet and …”

  “A douche,” Landon finishes my sentence. “You can do better.”

  “He is not a douche,” I argue.

  “Let me guess. He sweet-talked you? Told you how beautiful you are. Maybe he said something along the lines of how he was hoping you’d show up tonight.”

  I don’t respond as I simmer in my cloud of fury.

  Landon continues, “I know Danny, Amy. A lot better than you do. He was only interested in you tonight. He wouldn’t have called you tomorrow. What’d you think, that you and he were going to hit it off and spend a romantic summer together before he went off to college and pined over his high school girlfriend while he was away? That’s not the narrative that would’ve played out.”

  “You don’t know that,” I grumble under my breath.

  “Oh, I do. I know how Danny works. I’ve seen his moves many times before, and I wasn’t going to let him do it to you. You deserve better than a Danny Buchanan, Amy.”

  I’m still mad at Landon, but my anger has definitely settled. It’s hard to be too mad at him when I know that, in his mind, he was just looking out for me.

  I sigh. “I get that you had good intentions, but you know, I’m going to have to kiss some frogs before I find my prince. That’s life.”

  “Maybe so but not on my watch. Plus, you’re only sixteen. You’re not ready for the heartache Danny would have brought.”

  “I’m almost seventeen,” I reply sullenly.

  “Doesn’t change anything.”

  A few moments later, he’s pulling off to the side of the road by the cornfield next to my house where he picked me up what seems like only minutes ago.

  “You good?” he asks.

  “Yeah. I’m still pissy, but I guess I’ll live.”

  He grins. “That you will, Ames. So, I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner. Don’t get caught, sneaking back in.”

  “I won’t.” I look to my friend who I’ve known my entire life, and I know he cares. I suppose, with a face like Danny’s, he’s bound to be a womanizing douche bag. “Thanks for looking out for me tonight, I guess.”

  “You’re welcome.” Landon laughs. “I’m only here for the summer, but I promise to cockblock you at every turn until I leave for college. After that, you’re on your own.”

  “Awesome,” I say, my voice thick with sarcasm.

  “Ames, don’t try to grow up so fast. High school guys just want one thing, and it isn’t a meaningful relationship.”

  “Are you serious right now? Are you my friend or my dad?” I shake my head. “You were literally in high school, like, two weeks ago.”

  “And that’s why I know.” He smiles and shoots me a wink.

  “You’re crazy.” I chuckle. “Anyway, thanks for the ride.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I quickly make it inside without making a sound.

  As I lie down in bed, I think about my what-could’ve-been with Danny Buchanan. So close.

  Landon’s lucky that he’s so important to me. If he were anyone else, I would’ve killed him. Deep down, I know that perhaps he was right, but it doesn’t make the fact that I was so close to making out with Danny, only to have it ripped away from me, sting any less.

  Amy

  Seventeen Years Old

  Amy VanHoughton.

  It has a nice ring to it.

  Amy VanHoughton.

  It’s classy … elegant.

  Okay, so maybe I’m not ready to tie the knot tomorrow. Finishing high school is obviously a priority. But a girl has to plan, and Everett’s last name fits perfectly with my first. I’m not saying he’s going to be my one and only love, but there’s a good chance he could be. That thought makes my heart swell with happiness.

  I breathe in deeply as I pull the sheet around my naked body, a huge smile plastered on my face.

  I can’t believe I just lost my virginity to Everett VanHoughton.

  I’ve kissed a lot of toads—all right, four—but I’ve found Everett, so it was worth it.

  The actual event was … okay. To be honest, it hurt, and though it didn’t last long, it felt like forever. All of my friends say it gets better, so I’m not worried about that. Everett went all out to make my first time memorable. He took me to a nice dinner and rented a room in a fancy hotel. When we entered the hotel room, there was soft music playing and rose petals on the bed. I love how romantic he is.

  He has flowers delivered to me at school each month to mark another month’s anniversary. He doesn’t go to my high school. He lives in the city of Kalamazoo and attends a private school there. But that’s less than a half-hour drive from my house, and we see each other a couple of times a week. Having a boyfriend who doesn’t live in the same place, especially my town, is nice. I’ve known everyone in my class—all fifty of them—since kindergarten. I’m confident, if the love of my life were among them, I’d know.

  I met Everett at my dad’s Christmas work party last December. He was there with his dad, the owner of the firm. Mr. VanHoughton puts on the best parties.

  We look forward to the holiday party every year. It’s like a wedding reception without the bride and groom. There’s fantastic food, great music, dancing, and my favorite, a photo booth.

  I’d noticed Everett in years past, and I knew he was my age, but I never dared to say anything to him. This past December, I was coming out of the photo booth with my sisters, and we were covered in props—crowns, boas, huge yellow glasses. We were laughing as we exited the booth, and I was holding out a hot-pink arrow cut out of cardboard that read, Hot Stuff.

  I ran straight into Everett. He smirked—the sexy way he always does—grabbed my hand, and pulled me back into the photo booth with him. He hit the photo button on the screen before grabbing my face and kissing me. I have four pictures of our first kiss in a cute little strip, framed on my dresser at home.

  Our spontaneous, magical first kiss.

  After our photo-booth kiss, we talked and danced the rest of the night. We’ve been dating ever since.

  “Hey, hot stuff.” Everett shoots me a smile as he walks out of the bathroom and sets his phone down on the bedside table before crawling back under the sheet with me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good.”

&n
bsp; “You don’t hurt?” He tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “Not too bad,” I say before his lips softly kiss mine.

  He pulls away. “I’m glad. You were amazing, Amy. Just perfect. So beautiful.”

  He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. The heat of his body makes me feel all warm and tingly.

  “I was thinking that we need to decide what we want to do for your eighteenth birthday next month. We could go to Canada, get wasted, and have lots of sex. Drunk sex is the best.”

  He chuckles, and my eyes widen. A wave of unease settles in around me.

  Everett senses my reaction to his words. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive, baby. I’m just saying that, now that we’ve finally done it, we’re going to want to do it more.”

  Yeah, I guess he’s right.

  “Have you been to Canada?” I ask him.

  “Of course. Haven’t you?”

  “Yeah, with my family. But, I mean, have you been there, partying?”

  “A few times. It’s awesome. You’ll love it.”

  He grins, and I can’t help but smile back. He’s the most beautiful when he smiles.

  I don’t recall Everett ever telling me about him partying in Canada. I know he doesn’t tell me everything, but I would think that would’ve come up. I try not to overthink it.

  Everett turned eighteen back in January. I took him out to eat at Red Lobster, and then we went to see Tom Cruise’s latest action movie. A much more low-key birthday than being whisked off to another country.

  Oh crap, I think.

  “I don’t know if Canada will work. My parents might not agree to that because we’d have to stay overnight.”

  “So? You’ll be eighteen.”

  “I know, but I’m still in high school. It’s different.”

  He groans. “It’s so weird that you still have another year of high school left.”

  “I know,” I agree.

  My sister, Lily, and I both have summer birthdays. Our mom felt, having just turned five, we weren’t ready to start kindergarten even though we were old enough. So, we both started school when we were six.

  “It will be fine though, the same really,” I reassure Everett. “We’ll talk and text all the time, and I can see you on weekends when you’re up at college.”

  “Yeah,” he agrees, though he doesn’t sound convinced.

  “Thanks so much for today. I love you,” I tell him, changing the subject.

  “I love you, baby.” He kisses me before climbing out of bed. “I’m going to go shower, and then I’ll get you home.”

  I watch as he walks away, feeling both excited and awkward, watching a naked guy. Sure, he’s my boyfriend, but it’s still weird, having him walk around in front of me without any clothes. I know this is what sexually active couples do. I just have to get used to it.

  After he’s in the bathroom and I hear the water from the shower, I get out of bed and start getting dressed. I’ll take a bath when I get home. Coming home, freshly showered, might raise some questions. My parents are pretty cool, but I’m not willing to delve into the hey, I had sex conversation with them tonight.

  I’m just finishing zipping up the side of my dress when Everett’s phone buzzes from the table. It catches my attention because Everett takes his phone with him everywhere. He’s kind of obsessed with it, always texting his friends. He’s extremely social.

  I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel the need to turn the phone over to see who the text is from. I’m generally not a nosy person, but I turn the phone, so I can see the screen.

  It’s a girl’s name.

  That’s not a big deal. Everett has all sorts of friends, girls included. The message doesn’t show up.

  Maybe she sent him an image?

  His phone is locked, but I’ve seen him type his code a million times. It’s impossible not to remember the four-digit security code, as it’s his basketball jersey number repeated—2727.

  Before I can stop myself, I’m hitting the two and the seven twice.

  I pull up his texts. I see her name—Mariah.

  My finger hovers over her name.

  Don’t do this. You trust him.

  I do trust him.

  He’s been an incredible boyfriend. He’s always been so giving and understanding. He waited seven months for me to be ready to have sex with him. He’s a good person, and he loves me. Mariah could be a cousin, sending him a picture of her new puppy. I’m about to cross a line. That’s not what mature couples do. I love him. I should respect his privacy.

  My finger hovers over her name, but I’ve decided to trust him. It’s the right thing to do. I’m not going to check the message because I don’t need to. Everett has nothing to hide. I start to lower his phone to put it back, but then my thumb brushes across her name, opening the message.

  It’s impossible not to see it.

  And … it’s not a puppy.

  I gasp and drop the phone. My hands cover my mouth, and I stand there in shock. I only saw the image for a second, but in that small space of time, that picture seared itself in my brain, and though I would do anything to get it out of my head, I have a feeling that it’ll always be there.

  It was unsolicited—surely.

  I don’t have much time, and I have to be brave because not knowing the truth would be torture.

  I take in a few calming breaths and pick the phone up off of the ground. I look at Mariah’s text. I have to assume the image is of her—whoever she is. It’s a close-up of her … naked … crotch, and … I feel sick.

  My stomach turns, and I feel like I’m going to vomit.

  It’s so gross.

  The phone vibrates in my hand as another text comes through.

  Hurry up. I’m waiting.

  This isn’t good.

  I look back at their previous messages. There’s nothing innocent about their exchange. It’s disgusting, dirty, and so just … wrong.

  A tear rolls down my cheek, and my chest heaves in a sob when I see a picture that Everett sent. I look at the time of the message and realize that he sent it while here, a few moments ago. It must have been when he went to the bathroom earlier.

  It’s a picture of his dick in his hand, accompanied by loads of vulgar things he’s going to do to her.

  I slowly shake my head, the phone rattling in my trembling hand.

  This doesn’t make any sense.

  I can’t believe what I’m seeing. It isn’t my Everett. Yet I now realize that Everett isn’t mine, and I’d be naive to think he ever was. He doesn’t love me.

  This—I throw the phone down on the bed—isn’t love.

  The shower turns off, and I start to panic as I grab my purse and shoes. I hastily scan the room to see if anything else of mine is here. I spot the champagne that rests, opened, in a silver bin of melted ice. The champagne that Everett has to toast the special occasion of him finally getting in my pants. Yet we never drank any of it because he was too eager to accomplish what this whole night had been leading up to.

  And he did it. I’m no longer a virgin.

  Cheers!

  I feel like a fool, a complete idiot.

  Quickly, I snatch his phone from the bed and throw it into the pail of melted ice. Grabbing the bottle of champagne, I pour it over the immersed phone just to make sure it’s good and ruined, dropping the bottle in the bin when it’s empty.

  I grab some of the rose petals at my feet and throw them in there for good measure. Everett has always been about the details. I hope he appreciates the added touch.

  I wish there were more I could do, more I could destroy. I want to hurt him because he’s devastated me, but there’s nothing else in this room that’s his.

  I don’t have time anyway. I run for the door. I can’t bear to see him. I should want to scream at him and demand answers. But I’ll never hear the truth, and what does it matter now? I sneak out before he exits the bathroom. Closing the hotel room door behind me, I step into the
hallway. I run, barefoot, holding my heels in my hand, and swing open the door to the stairwell. I can’t risk waiting for an elevator.

  Involuntary tears stream down my face as I exit the building. I jog a few blocks away and turn some corners until I’m confident that Everett won’t find me.

  Who am I kidding?

  He probably won’t even look. It’s clear that he doesn’t care.

  I lean against the brick wall of a closed office building and lower myself down to the sidewalk. I need a ride back to Athens. I can’t call my parents; that’s for sure. It’s too embarrassing, and what would I say? I saw a picture of some girl’s vagina on Everett’s phone right after he took my virginity.

  Classy.

  I pull up my texts and see Landon’s name, remembering that he’s home from college. I text him.

  I need you to come get me, please.

  Where are you?

  I send him my location, and he texts back that he’s on his way.

  I’ve cried so much that my eyes are almost swollen closed. I’m confident I’ve cried off all of my makeup. A young couple stops and asks if I need money, so I know I must look rough. I reassure them that I am fine and have help on the way.

  About five thousand tears later, Landon pulls up. He’s out of the vehicle and to me before I can get off of the sidewalk.

  “Ames?” His voice is concerned as he pulls me into a hug. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “Everett,” I sob, unable to get the rest of my thought out.

  Landon’s body stiffens. “Where is he? I’m going to kick his fucking ass. Did he make you do something you didn’t want to do?”

  I shake my head because he didn’t make me do anything. I wanted it. I wanted to make love to my boyfriend. I thought he could be the one. It’s all such a joke now. In a span of a couple of minutes, while reading his text exchange, I realized I didn’t know my boyfriend at all. How do you date someone for seven months and not truly know him?

  “Come on,” Landon says softly as he leads me to his truck. “Is this a code 411?”

  I nod, my lips turning up in a faint smile because Landon pulled out our old code.

  Landon’s parents bought the property next to their own years ago. The land contains a small lake and an old cottage. I think the plan was to tear down the cabin and build a fancy little retreat, a getaway right next to their home. But, soon after they bought that property, they purchased a house on Lake Michigan, which is where they go to get away. No little fishing lake could stand a chance against the beauty of the water and sandy beaches of Lake Michigan. For some reason though, the Porters never sold the property, and Landon and I use it as our secret hideout.