Stolen (4 page)

“If you’re offering, I’m drinking. It’s probably best
I get some caffeine in me before I attempt a rational conversation.”

“You mean that wasn’t rational conversation just now?
I think I might hold the coffee if that’s the type of conversation I can have
with you when you’re on caffeine withdrawal.”

I laugh it off and shove him in the chest, pushing him
closer to the register but that’s a mistake because I get a hands on,
literally, feel of what’s under his loose t-shirt. Damn, I don’t think my dream
did him justice. I see his smile waver from the contact, but he recovers and
feigns pain, putting his hands up in mock surrender while backing up toward the
register.

That was too close. I slide into the seat he just
vacated and keep my attention focused on Rachel.

“So, I didn’t know what you drank; kinda forgot to ask
you before I got in line, but the guy up there said you like skinny vanilla lattes.
Was he right or just messing with me? I didn’t know if he was trying to help me
out or make me look like an idiot when I brought this back to you,” Kyle says
upon returning with a steaming cup in hand.

I smile, extend my hand to grab the cup, and assure
him that that’s the drink I always order. A relieved smile stretches across his
face, and he surrenders the cup he’s holding into my proffered hand.

Time flies, and an hour later, the three of us are
packing up and heading out the now packed café onto the sidewalk. Conversation
had been so smooth the last hour between the three of us, a welcomed change for
me, but now I don’t know what to say or do. Do I just say bye and leave Rachel
to talk to Kyle alone? Do I stay with Rachel while Kyle leaves? Luckily, I
don’t have to make that decision.

“So,” Rachel starts. “Are you planning on going to the
party Friday night at Mike’s?” I watch Kyle’s face, trying to seem uninterested
in his response, but really my body is humming with anticipation for his
answer.

Please be going!
I
don’t know when I became so enthused over this party, but now all my synapses
are firing, and they’re firing directly toward Kyle. I want to go and I want to
see him there. I know it’s wrong, what with Rachel and all, but this past hour has
sparked something in me that I would love to explore, even if it can’t be with
him. Rachel is right that I need to get out there and find someone to distract
me from the convent I’ve assigned myself to be imprisoned in.

I catch his eyes rest on me, and for one gloriously
sinful moment, I can tell I’m not the only one who’s felt something sparking
between us. He recovers quickly, seeming as uninterested in giving his response
as I had tried to be in hearing it, when he shrugs and says to Rachel, “Maybe. Are
you guys planning on going?” It’s probably just my imagination, but he seems
nervous waiting for our answers, less confident than he normally is.

I let Rachel answer, if she doesn’t want to go any
more, then I won’t be going, so why say yes when the answer may be no,
depending on what she says. I wait anxiously.

“Absolutely we’ll be there!” She smiles and jabs him
in the chest, telling him that he has to come now since we are.

 I feel his eyes on me, but I can’t bring myself
to look at him again. Intently observing a crack in the sidewalk beneath my
feet, I can feel the blush rising in my cheeks. This is my first college party
and that, along with the prospect of seeing Kyle in a more relaxed social
setting, is making my heart and stomach do uncomfortable things right now.

I want to leave, but I force myself not to run like I
did last time.

“Well, that’s cool. I’ll probably stop by, so maybe
I’ll see you both there.” I finally chance a look his way and see him staring
intently at me. While still holding my gaze he says, “I’ll see you Friday,”
then he’s gone and I’m left staring at his back as he walks away.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Rachel squeals into my ear
once Kyle is out of sight. “We have to find you something to wear now so you’re
ready for Friday!”

“Why are you so excited and why do we have to do it
now? The party isn’t for another two days,” I point out.

“Because now that I know Kyle will definitely be there
I won’t have time to make both of us drop dead gorgeous all in one night. We
have to plan this out now so there’s a strategy come Friday night.”

“Why do you care what I look like? I mean, really, am
I that bad looking that you think I can’t dress myself? I have been known to
clean up, you know. I just don’t waste my time when I’m only going to class,
then back home. Give me some credit, would ya? And besides, he didn’t say he
would ‘definitely’ be there, so you might be freaking out over nothing.”

It’s as if she stopped listening to me as soon as I
began speaking. She doesn’t acknowledge anything I just said, instead grabs my
hand and drags me down the sidewalk, causing me to stumble and nearly land on
my face more than once. I finally yell at her to slow down, pointing out that
if she doesn’t, I’ll end up going with a broken nose, a look I’m sure she
wouldn’t like.

We stop in front of a red car that looks brand new,
and expensive. I don’t know what it is, I’ve never been able to tell a Volvo
from a BMW, but I know it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before.

I pause and gawk at it. Rogan would have drooled over
this if he had seen it. I look over the top of the hood and see Rachel is
standing by an open driver’s side door looking expectantly at me. I’m
dumbfounded. “Is this yours?”

She looks incredulously at me as if I just hinted at
the possibility that we were stealing it, then actually blushes. “Yeah, my dad
kinda bought it for me as a graduation present. I know it’s pretentious, but I
couldn’t deny it since he went through the trouble of buying it, and I do sort
of love it now.” She looks contritely at me and I feel bad for making her feel
like I’m judging her. It’s just that I’ve never known anyone who could afford a
car like this.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad; I just
didn’t know you had a car, let alone one this nice. My ex would have flipped if
he had seen this.” I’m still staring at it, mesmerized, lost in thought when I
realize what I’m thinking, or more precisely, who I’m thinking about, and
suddenly I feel completely shattered.

I can’t see the car anymore through the tears flooding
my eyes. I clutch my chest and beg. Oh, please not now. Not in front of Rachel.
Not on the curb of a very public, busy, sidewalk. Please, just let me breathe.
This is just another hour of another day.
Please
. . .  I silently
beg the same unseen force that sentenced me to this life in the first place.
I’m not sure anymore what I’m begging for, but I keep right on begging.

I feel arms around me as I collapse onto the cold
pavement.

Three years ago .
. .

“Babe, I know you probably don’t want to go out, but I
think it might do us good, and I think you’ll like where I’m taking you.”

I force a smile and nod. That’s all I’ve done lately,
and even that is draining, but it’s our one-year anniversary and I’ve known
since before everything happened that Rogan had been planning something
romantic. I can’t ruin this for him.

We’re sitting in his car in front of my house, having
just come back from eating breakfast, or more so him eating and me picking at
the same pancake for half an hour. I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.
When I see he’s looking at me with the same sad expression he’s had on his face
since the last time I freaked out on him, which was just last night, I wish so
badly that he didn’t look so sad and that I wasn’t the one who was making him
look like that, but I can’t seem to break free from this horrid monster that
I’m bound to.

I can’t remember the last time I actually slept. If
the bags under my eyes are any indication, then I think it’s safe to say it’s
been a while ago. When I shut my eyes I’m back on Luke’s doorstep trying to
reach for him, trying to pull him back and away from his open door, but I can’t
keep hold of him and I lose him all over again.

I paint on a smile and try again. “I’m sorry, baby. I
know you’ve been working hard on this surprise and I really am excited. I
swear.” His face brightens slightly, and I can’t help the genuine smile that
spreads across my face. Though it fades as quickly as it came, it doesn’t feel
right to smile. I’m close to falling back into that black hole, but I at least
need to get through tonight. Rogan deserves that.

He reaches for my hand, and the warmth of his skin
warms more than just my body. It spreads through every organ, every cell, every
platelet, and every shred of my soul. I close my eyes and breathe in the first
deep breath I can remember taking in what feels like years. It’s just one
breath, but it’s the first real breath I’ve taken since I found out Luke was
dead. Just hearing me admit that he’s dead makes the tears flow.

Luke is dead. He’s really dead.

 I’m feeling lightheaded when I look back into
the beautiful brown eyes of the one person I love more than anyone, the one
person who’s been willing to endure my tantrums, my heartbreak, my anger; the
one person who never tries to tell me all the trite things others have said. He
just lets me feel and never admonishes me for feeling too much or feeling the
wrong things. He never tells me I should be over it.

 I’m so overwhelmed. Tears keep streaming down my
face, and I let them without any shame. They’re releasing something I can’t
name and I don’t care that I can’t. My head is spinning, thoughts are running
rampant, and it feels good, it feels real. Rogan reaches with his free hand and
attempts to dry my face, but it’s useless; the tears may never stop. Instead,
he pulls me into an embrace that makes me feel like we’re our own world, a
world without pain, a world without death; a world without anything other than
love.

 It’s the morning of our anniversary. This wasn’t
what Rogan had planned for me for today, but no matter what comes later,
nothing will be able to beat this. Tonight will be wonderful no doubt, but what
he’s just given me isn’t something that can be bought in any store. It’s
irreplaceable and as beautiful as he is. 

He’s chipped away a huge part of the darkness that was
swallowing me whole, and I don’t even know what he did. Maybe I just needed to
allow myself one moment, just one moment to breathe. I haven’t taken any time
lately to feel anything but hurt and anger, but I feel like for the first time
I’m feeling something much like hope. I don’t know what I’m hoping for, but the
feeling alone is nice, and I’m going to relish in it.

I love him more than life, and I intend to make up for
the hate I’ve directed toward him over Luke. He hasn’t been trying to hurt me;
I have managed that on my own, and he doesn’t deserve it.

I throw my arms around his neck and pull him in for a
kiss that I hope says that I’m sorry, that I love him, and that I don’t hate
him. He has to know I love him, and this is the only way I know how to prove
that. He deepens the kiss, but then pulls away long enough to say he loves me
and that he’s sorry and something else I can’t make out, but I don’t care, it’s
just him and me against the world, just as it used to be. Today is our day and
will always be our day. Things are already looking brighter, and while I’m not
so naïve to think I’m cured, I will take this for what it is, a start in that
direction.

We pull away after a few more much needed minutes so
we can both get ready. He promises, with a huge smile, that he’ll be back to
pick me up at exactly six o’clock this evening. He says he can’t wait a minute
longer being without me.

I run back into the house with a smile and up to my
room. I shower, then Cass and mom help me pick the right outfit from all the
clothes I’ve piled onto my bed in a fit of nerves when I couldn’t decide. They
help me do my hair, since I’ve never done more than put it up in a ponytail or
loose bun, and my makeup, since I so rarely wear any and suck at applying it
without making myself look like a prostitute.

I’m ready and waiting by the door when the bell rings
at exactly six o’clock. I smile and open the door to see Rogan standing under
the porch light—which is accentuating his golden brown hair and green eyes—in
black dress pants, a light blue button up dress shirt, and a dark blue tie,
holding pink carnations, my favorite.

I’ve never seen him dressed up like this before, and
it takes me a moment to process it, but when a sexy smile stretches across his
face, I’m back to reality and the sudden need to drag him to his car, rip his
clothes off, and christen the back seat. He looks yummy.

I hear a throat clearing behind me, and I’m reminded
we’re not alone and that I’ve been caught staring unabashedly at the gorgeous
boy in front of me. I smile proudly, rest my hand in the crook of his elbow,
and tug him just over the threshold to face a proud looking mother who for
whatever reason looks like she might cry. It’s not as if this is the prom or
anything, so I have no idea why she’s reacting like this, but, hey, who
understands parents? Maybe she’s just happy to see me out of my room, minus the
scowl I’ve been catering to these past two weeks.

Through misty eyes, mom tells us not to move. I
grimace when I look at Rogan and mouth,
Sorry
. This is so embarrassing.
What could she be doing? Oh my God, she better not be getting the camera!

“Smile!” I’m nearly blinded by the unexpected flash
from the ancient camera she only pulls out for special occasions.

 
Damn it, mom
! I inwardly chastise her.

After forever of posing in front of the stairwell, the
fireplace in the living room no one uses, then what feels like a dozen more of
us back at the stairwell, I point out to her that we have to go. Rogan just
keeps smiling like a fool, not helping me out at all. Finally, she relents and
hugs us both, telling us how proud she is of us, how happy she is for us, then
tells me to have fun and that she extended my curfew from eleven o’clock to
midnight. I squeeze her in a hug and whisper, “Thank you” and “I love you” into
her ear, which she responds with a “You’re welcome” and “I love you, too” back
into mine.

I wave goodbye as Rogan and I walk down the walkway to
his car. He places his hand on top of mine, which is on the car door handle,
pulls it away, and says, “Let me.” I smile, putting my head down and sliding
into the seat.

After driving for over half an hour I can’t take it
anymore. I keep asking him where he’s taking me and what we’re doing. He just
smiles and patiently tells me to relax and trust him. It’s not that I don’t
trust him; it’s that I’m going crazy with anticipation. I never expected to
have to wait this long to know what we were doing. Another fifteen minutes and
he pulls into the parking lot of a fancy looking French restaurant.

 I stare like a fool out of my window and keep
staring even when there’s no window and the door is wide open with an
outstretched hand in front of me. I turn my gaze, and with a huge smile, place
my hand in his and step out of the car next to the most amazing person I know.

I straighten my deep blue, mid-thigh, strapless dress,
which unintentionally complements his outfit, and silently thank the Cosmos
that this was what I decided to wear tonight, although I still feel like a
pauper compared to some of those around me, but it’s better than jeans. I look
to Rogan, who’s beaming, and it’s so contagious we must look like two fools
when we walk in.

Rogan tells the hostess that we have a reservation for
two, and we’re led to a cozy table in a far corner. The restaurant is busy, but
somehow it feels like we’re the only two people here. Rogan holds my hand
across the table and refuses to let go even when the waiter comes to take our
drink order. The waiter smiles at us and turns to get our drinks.

“Rogan, this is wonderful. You didn’t have to do
something so extravagant, but I’ve gotta say, I’m happy you did.” I can’t lie
and say otherwise because this really is magical. I feel so grown up and important.
“I can see us doing this every year,” I tell him, then realize what I just
said. I try to cover by saying I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.

He looks confused and hurt when he says, “You wouldn’t
want to come here again next year?”

I can’t help but smile and instinctually lower my chin
toward my chest. I feel his hand coaxing me to look at him. He’s silent, but
imploring me to explain what I meant. “I’d love to come back here; I just
didn’t mean to imply that we would be together another year. I didn’t want to
freak you out.”

His face relaxes and he softly chuckles. “You think I
plan on not being with you next year? Or the next? Or the next? Or t—?”

“I get it!” I laugh and interject before we spend all
night going through every year he plans on being with me.

“I don’t ever want to be without you,” he continues.
“And as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here. They aren’t just words I say when
I say I love you. I love you so much, and one day I plan to marry you and have
lots of babies with you.” He’s smiling, and while a small lump just formed in
my throat over his confession, I’m thrilled to hear him say all of the things
I’m always thinking about him. 

“So, you want to be with me forever, huh?” I tease
him.

He smiles back at me and says, “Until I die, I’ll want
to always be with you, and even when I’m dead I plan on hanging around you.
I’ll have to keep an eye on anyone who plots to take you away from me.”

“Since I’ll be old and decrepit, I doubt you’ll have
to worry about that.”

“Hey, speaking as a man, I don’t think anything, even
age, would stop a man from coming after you. You’re gorgeous, smart, funny,
caring, and just an amazing person. Anyone who gets to know you is luckier for
it, and I know that isn’t going to change with age so, dead or alive, I’m going
to have my work cut out for me.”

I don’t like talking about him dying; I can’t stomach
the thought of being without him even for a minute. The events of these past
couple of weeks make the thought even more crippling. I’m on the verge of
tears, and Rogan notices, even though I try discreetly wiping away the few
rebel tears that won’t stay in my sockets.

He stands and walks the couple of steps to me, pulls
my chair around so I’m facing him, and wipes away the tears. “Baby, I didn’t
mean to upset you. I was being an ass and I’m sorry. You’ve been through so
much lately, and I didn’t mean to talk about death in any capacity, even though
I meant for it to be sweet, not tragic. I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me? Can
we just have a do over and go back to the image of you naked and pregnant, I
mean barefoot and pregnant!” He shakes his head as if he’s upset by his
accidental slip, even though we both know it was no accident.

“You’re such a perv! Now sit down before people start
thinking we’re breaking up. Or that you’re proposing. Either would be kind of
embarrassing.” I scold him and shove him in the chest to get him to move back
to his seat. He grabs my face between his hands and places one of our gentle
kisses on my lips. I’m about halfway melted into goo when a man clears his
throat. Cracking my eyes, I see our waiter standing behind Rogan with our
drinks.
Oops!

I hide my smile behind the napkin I cover my mouth
with, pretending to wipe something from my lips. I realize it must look like
I’m wiping the kiss away, and when I look up at Rogan he’s grinning like a
fool, probably thinking the same thing. So much for trying to move discreetly
past that awkward moment.

The dinner goes by without any more tears or
embarrassing moments between our waiter and us, and when we’re so stuffed from
dinner and dessert, Rogan pays the bill and walks me to the car, never letting
my hand go.

Before he opens my door he pulls me close to him and
kisses me unlike he’s ever kissed me before. Something is different, and when
our eyes meet, I think we both felt it and both know what it is. My stomach
does a summersault, and I nearly lose my dinner. I’m beyond ready, but tonight?