I looked down at my watch and felt dread settle in the pit of my stomach like molten lead. The test was at nine. It was already past ten. I was going to fail biology. I had never failed a class in my life.
My first year of college, I started out like every innocent freshman, eager and ready to learn. My first semester, I was a good student. How I wished I could have just stayed that way. I found I loved the freedom that being on my own gave me. It didn't take long for me to realize that I could skip a class here and there and still pass. I slowly stopped going to class, finding that going out was more fun than studying.
Everything felt good. The world was spinning and he was kissing me. It was nice to be kissed. No one had ever kissed me like this. I took another sip, the golden liquid searing through me and giving me courage. I let my inhibitions go, the world mine to experience.
If I had just stopped there, it would have been all right. But I didn't. One party led to another and to another. I felt free. I could do no wrong. Freshman year ended, and I still made all A's and B's. I only felt a small twinge of guilt at the B's, but I still had my scholarship. I felt like I was balancing work and play, the adult world opening up to me.
I walked back to my dorm room, ignoring the stares as I headed down the hall. The small square bedroom I shared was empty and I was grateful. I stripped down, throwing my clothes in a hamper in the corner of the room by my bed and wrapping my robe around me. I just wanted to get clean. To get the stench of alcohol and smoke out of my hair and skin. I didn't think it was supposed to be like this.
They say that a girl's first time should be special. They say that it should be full of love and tenderness. My first time was with a boy who was too drunk to remember my name in the bathroom of a frat house. It wasn't special, but it was a first.
I don't remember the names of all of them. Sometimes I spent the night, sometimes I didn't. My roommate got used to me not being around. My grades started slipping. I missed classes, then quizzes, and then tests. I had never failed anything in my life, but now I was barely passing half my classes. The only time I felt better was when I drank. That's when I met Bobby.
Bobby Wilcox was gorgeous. Tall, blonde, and handsome, he had girls swooning over him as soon as they saw him. I was no different. I met him at a party and couldn't get enough. He told me he loved me. I believed him and, for a time, believed that we would live happily ever after.
We were happy for a while. I had called Andrew singing Bobby's praises at first. He was handsome, he was rich, he was good to me. I stopped calling Andrew when things started going bad. I never told anyone the things Bobby called me. I thought I deserved them. I would have done anything for his praise.
"That's it, you little whore, that's a good girl," he had said, smearing the tears on my cheek. I stood on shaky legs. I knew love wasn't supposed to be like this, but Bobby would never hurt me. He loved me. "Now, who's next?" he called out to his friends as he offered me up to them. If this would make him happy, I would do it. He was the only one who really loved me. He told me that all the time.
He convinced me to do things that I'm not proud of. He convinced me I was worthless and that only he could love me. I believed him. I trusted him. I didn't know it then, but I had lost myself to him completely.
I felt dizzy. I hadn't been eating, and now I struggled to keep down what little I did eat. Something was wrong with me. Then it hit me. I hadn't had my period this month. I was two weeks late. I sat down and started to cry. I looked at my life and wondered how I had ended up here. I knew I was smarter than this. I hadn't been raised this way; I knew better than to put myself in bad situations. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't even one hundred percent sure who the father was. I told Bobby that I was late. He laughed and told me to "get it fixed." I hit him, but he just kept laughing, calling me names.
I skipped the rest of my classes that week. I missed tests. I couldn't concentrate. It felt like someone else was living my life; I was just an observer watching a troubled girl spiral out of control. I stopped drinking. I stopped going to the parties. No one missed me. None of my so-called friends ever checked up on me.
After a week of crying and being alone, I called the only person I knew would come and protect me from the world.
"Luke, I'm in trouble."
Luke was there in less than an hour. I wondered how much he had sped to get here that fast. I wished I would have called him months ago. I told him everything, and he just held me and let me cry. For the first time in months, I felt like someone actually cared. He threatened to beat Bobby up, but I knew it wouldn't do any good, though the idea at least made me smile.
Luke walked me to the grocery store down the street and I bought a pregnancy test. The pimply-faced clerk eyed me judgmentally as I counted out my change. We walked the stadium three times before I got the courage to go into a campus bathroom. Luke promised me that no matter what the result was, he was there for me. I didn't have to do this alone. He held my hand while I waited to see my future. I knew something was going to have to change. It was the longest three minutes of my life.
It came back negative.
I failed every class that semester. I lost my scholarship. I lost everything I had worked for. I had lost myself. I had no idea who I was anymore. What would have happened if it had been positive? What would I have done? Could I have gone home, to my dad, to my friends, carrying a child? What would I have done for money? Would I have kept the baby, or given it up for adoption? How could I have been so blind? How could I have thought that what Bobby did to me was love? Why would someone treat me like that? What kind of person was I to get in this situation in the first place? There were so many questions that I didn't know the answers to, questions I shouldn't have needed to ask in the first place.
I needed to find my way again, so I came home to start from the beginning. Luke never said a word to anyone. He let me tell everyone that college was harder than I had expected and I didn't want to do it anymore. Andrew accepted it easily, welcoming me home with open arms.
My dad never asked for more either, but I knew he suspected something. He had helped me unpack into my old room, watching me with sad eyes. I spent the first week home in shame, seeing accusation in everyone's eyes. Everywhere I went all I could see was other people's pity. At least they only thought I couldn't hack it at college. I preferred that to them knowing how poorly I had chosen my path.
I was no better than Louise. I saw the way Andrew looked at her, heard the disgust in his voice at her decisions. I was the same as Louise. I had almost been in her shoes, almost had that life. One party too many, one drink too many, one guy too many. One mistake too many. I couldn't lose Andrew, the one person who still believed in me, who didn't see me as a complete failure. Andrew saw the potential in me. The idea that he would look at me the way he looked at Louise scared me worse than anything.
I couldn't tell him. I would keep my dirty secret to myself. If he didn't know, he couldn't be disappointed in me. I could feel secrets beginning to pile up around me, but if I told him, he would never speak to me again. And that was worse than anything I could imagine.
Chapter 11
A dragon's maw of heat and flame raged down the hillside, winding across the forest in search of sustenance. Flames wound around ancient trees like long lost lovers searching for release. The fire engulfed it all, never satisfied, never satiated, never finding peace.
***
I stepped out of my car, careful not to trip on my heels. Since Andrew was taking the time to cook me dinner, I decided I would surprise him and dress up. I had on my favorite black dress with a flared skirt and short purple heels. I even curled my hair and put makeup on. I had put his reaction at the grocery store out of my mind. If I never brought it up, it was never going to come up. Besides, I told myself, Andrew would never do that to me. I was nearly to the door when Andrew opened it wearing his mother's apron.
"You look amazing," he said appreciatively as I walked through the door. I could feel him eyeing me up and down. I did a little turn, posing like a model at the end. He laughed and clapped his hands.
"So, Chef Andrew, what can I do to help?" I asked, sliding out of my shoes and setting them by the door.
"You can come and sit down. I have everything ready," he said as he pulled me toward the dining. He had the table set with candles and flowers. Soft classical music was playing in the background. "You like it?"
I kissed his cheek. The nervous look on his face was adorable. "It's perfect. Probably the prettiest table I have ever seen." He grinned and pulled out a chair. I sat down and he hurried to the kitchen.
"I hope you're hungry. The recipe feeds four, and then I made dessert too," he said sheepishly as he brought out a heaping plate.
"Smells delicious! What is it?" I breathed in the scent of Italian spices, and my mouth started to water.
"Pan-seared scallops with pesto and heirloom tomatoes," he said proudly. He took off the apron, smoothing his dress shirt before sitting down. He looked incredibly handsome. "I hope you like it."
"Mmmm," I moaned, taking a bite. It was delicious. "You made this? It's amazing!"
"Thanks." He grinned, then took a bite himself. "I'm getting better at this."
"Oh, so you have done this before. I feel so special," I teased.
"Yup. You know me and all my girlfriends," he replied sarcastically. I did know all his girlfriends. He knew I didn't date much in high school, and he thought that I had only been with Bobby. I cringed inwardly at the memory of me giggling on the phone to Andrew about how wonderful Bobby was. I had been so naive.
"So, you seeing anyone new, then?" I asked playfully.
"Well, there is this one girl. I've kind of had a crush on her for a long time, but I don't want to go too fast." He smiled shyly at me over his plate.
"A crush, huh?"
"She kissed me once. I've wanted to kiss her every day since then." Andrew looked directly at me, his eyes like blue flames drawing me in.
"Really?" I could barely breathe, my heart pounding in my chest. Andrew nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. A smile blossomed across my face.
As if the moment was becoming a little too intense, he changed the subject. "But enough about my crush; I've been cooking all day and I'm starving. Let's eat!"
I smiled, and we talked about mundane things while we ate. Work, family, the weather. He told me all about how a bunch of people had come in looking for items to reduce the fire danger around the town. I had noticed the same at the grocery store. Every time we ran out of things to talk about, I seemed to be drawn to his eyes. We sat in a comfortable silence for minutes at a time.
Finally, the subject of our friends had come up. "I just don't know what to do," I said. "We promised."
"I don't know what to do either, but it's a bad situation for me either way," he said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
Andrew set down his fork and came around the table, kneeling by my chair and taking my hand in his.
"Holly, I've loved you for as long as I've known you. I gave you my heart when I gave you those crayons in kindergarten." His voice faltered for a moment, his eyes capturing me completely. "The vow we made all those years ago has been the hardest promise I've ever had to keep. I meant to tell you after dinner, but I can't wait. I love you, Holly."