Page 13 of The Promises We Were Never Meant To Keep

Mom comes closer. Dropping a kiss to my temple, she blinks misty eyes and says, “Mine too.”

I have really great parents.

5

WE DON’T HAVE THAT PROBLEM

AUGUST 26, 2006 – 15 YEARS OLD

So far, fifteen has been great. Back home in Victoria, I’d have probably done a big sleepover with my girlfriends—after a day of fishing—as I’d done most years. But this year, having just moved to a new town, and the only girl I know is Andy, I’d opted out when Mom asked if that’s what I wanted to do.

I’m happy I did, because this is way better.

The sky is a swirl of vivid pink, maroon, and violet as Tate pulls his car into one of the spaces close to the site where some of the guys have already gathered with a few girls. A fire blazes high from the pit, sparks dancing like fireflies amidst a spray of volcanic magma into the sunset. My enchantment shatters in a fit of giggles as I watch through the back passenger window as Kevin gets a kind of manic look in his blue eyes. It’s the kind of look that precedes the loving attack of a dog with a tongue too eager to lick, as he charges an unaware Elijah.

Kevin’s blonde, springy curls, bounce with every step he takes before he connects a shoulder into Elijah’s gut, flipping him over his shoulder. Then he tips his head back and howls like a wolf to a full moon. The can of pop Elijah had been holding, thuds to the ground, and even though I can’t hear it through the glass of the window and the rumble of the still-running car, Elijah’s roar somehow sounds between my ears.

“Ah, shit,” Tate sighs. “Kev’s at it again.”

“When is he not at it?” Holt is leaning around me to watch the show. He’s so close, I can feel him even though he’s not touching me. I’m hyper aware of Holt.

Still, I wince when Elijah pummels Kevin with a fist that has got to hurt. As though the whole scene isn’t bad enough, Andy takes it upon herself to add to the chaos—something I’ve come to expect from her—and cracks an open palm against Elijah’s upturned butt. Then, with revenge clearly the point, Elijah grabs a fistful of the material that peeks out from under Kevin’s jeans, and he yanks.

I shriek as Kevin drops to the ground with Elijah over his shoulder, the two of them rolling into a tussle of boy limbs on the ground.

Holt slides even closer. My breath catches when his slides over the skin of my bare shoulder. “They’re fine.”

“They’re fighting.” I can’t look away from the flying punches and headlocks.

“Eh, they’re always fighting.” Holt brushes off my worry. “Elijah is in the wrestling league in school, but his dad also owns a Jiu-jitsu studio in town. It’s attached to the gym, so the guy is ripped.” This much is clear. Even at fifteen, Elijah is big. “He won’t hurt Kevin.”

“But he will twist him up like a pretzel,” Tate’s date says from the passenger seat. She’s a pretty girl with long black hair and a warm skin tone I would die for. Her limbs are willowy, and her cheekbones are model high. She’s totally into Tate. “I’ve seen it more than once.”

“Yeah,” Tate agrees. “Kevin likes getting his ass handed to him.”

Holt tugs on my hand. “Let’s go, pretty girl.”

I let Holt lead me from the car to the campsite by the beach. There are a lot more people here than I thought—more than I told Mom and Dad would be here. A quick flutter of anxiety has me squeezing Holt’s hand tighter.

Dipping his chin, his warm brown eyes land on me. “You cool?”

“I thought it was just a few people?”

He stops walking to face me. “You’re not cool.”

“I told Mom and Dad it was a small thing.” I glance out at the beach where there are more people in the water. “This is—” I laugh nervously. “It’s a party. I’ve just never been to a party before. At least not like this, by a lake at night, with a bunch of older kids—” Or booze, which I’m positive there is hidden in those cups. Or—and I’m rambling. Both out loud and in my thoughts.

Holt nods, stepping into me. His voice is sincere as he tips his head to mine. “If you want, we can ditch. Go back to your place and—” He drags his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. We can watch a movie or sort your dad’s tackle box with him.” I laugh, because that’s what Dad had been doing when Holt had come to pick me up. His eyes soften at the sound, and he wets his lips, a sigh slipping from the deep of his chest to linger in the space between us. “Honestly, Faye, I don’t care what we do tonight, as long as I’m spending it with you. So, if you want to go, I’m cool with that. But if you want to stay, I promise, I’ll keep you out of trouble.”

This boy.

“I want to stay.” A shiver of delight ripples over my skin at the way he grins down at me. It’s pure, raw joy weaved with what I think might be want. I’m not experienced enough yet with want to know for sure, but that’s what my developing intuition says.

And whatever that look is, I love it. I commit it to memory where I know it’ll never, ever dim.

“Yeah?” Gosh, why does he sound breathless? Why do I like it?

I nod, pulling my lip between my teeth as his eyes drop to watch. His own lips part and his head begins to slowly shift closer, dip lower. I think he’s going to kiss me. My heart is in hopeful panic mode. My skin feels electrified, and I swear, I can feel the touch of warmth from his lips before he even grazes me and then⁠—