Page 45 of Tainted Love

He holds me back with one arm while I jump and smack at his chest like an energetic Corgi dog. I stop fighting him when I realize it’s useless. I won’t be able to wrestle the contents away from him.

I fall back onto the bed and flop my arm over my eyes. I’m expecting him to make fun of me or make some sort of dig at me for keeping them. What he says next surprises me.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” he says, his eyes gleaming with nostalgia.

I uncover my eyes to see if he’s being serious or not.

“Can I have this drawing?” he asks eagerly.

I blink in surprise. “Are you messing with me?”

He looks appalled at the suggestion. “No!” he insists, his expression sincere. “I don’t have anything from this time. We packed up and moved so fast.”

“So you admit that you remember knowing me?” I shout excitedly, unable to contain my emotions any longer.

“Of course, I remember,” he replies.

“Then why did you act like you didn’t?” I ask as my chest cracks open with a question that’s been festering in my heart like an open wound for years.

A deep, heavy sigh escapes his lips as he settles onto the bed next to me. “I don’t know.”

My frustration boils up inside me as I respond sharply. “You don’t know? That’s all you have to say?”

He runs a hand through his hair, looking away from me. “I wish I could tell you more. But everything was so messy. I had just moved back after my dad got out of prison. It was overwhelming to adjust to living with him, missing my grandma, and practicing to make the Mavericks team. And I didn’t want to think about life before that. Didn’t want people to know.”

A sense of understanding washes over me in a strange way. While I’m more of a “hit the problem straight on” kind of chick, I understand how he might feel embarrassed and prefer to avoid the memories altogether. Unfortunately, it doesn’t hurt any less.

“You acted like you didn’t know who I was,” I say with a vulnerability I rarely allow myself to show.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice filled with guilt and regret. “You were a part of a life I didn’t want to acknowledge. I thought things would be easier if I tried to start over completely.”

“And spin the bottle?” I ask, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.

He hangs his head, a shadow crossing his features. “Spin the bottle was...fucked up,” he starts, his words heavy with shame. “I didn’t want to steal your first kiss like that,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “It seemed wrong.”

I can feel my heart lurch at his admission, wondering how he could have known it would have been my first kiss. The memory of our game of spin the bottle floods back to me, and I can’t help but feel a mix of anger and sadness at the thought of what could have been.

“You didn’t know that would’ve been my first kiss,” I state, my voice choking with emotion.

The air around us feels heavy and charged as he looks at me, his eyes searching for something. “Was I wrong?” he asks softly.

I shake my head, unable to form words.

“I don’t know,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I suggest you try if you ever want to wear Cheets again.” Jesus, now I’m using nicknames for them too.

He looks taken aback but quickly tries to cover it up. “What about the five dollars?”

“The terms have changed,” I say firmly.

He rubs his hand over his face as if this memory is also difficult for him. “We’re sitting there, and the bottle lands on you. My friends had been talking shit the whole party, making bets on hooking up with different girls. Saying anyone we kissed would be fair game for the rest of the guys to try to bang. I wasn’t about to put you in that situation.”

“You hurt me,” I admit. “I was so embarrassed.”

“I know. I couldn’t stand the thought of cheapening you to a conquest.”

“You should’ve stood up for me,” I say, tears welling in my eyes.