He stood for everything she was against and he wouldn't be caught dead befriending someone like her, but when the worst happens and they find themselves in a similar situation, only then will they realize they need each other to discover the anatomy...
If there was ever a time I envied anything in the lives of people like Caleb or Ginger, it was this view and this air and this night sky. Nature was supposed to be free, the one thing available to us all, but only the rich could afford to sleep beneath these stars by choice in a town like ours. I've never been envious or jealous of what I didn't have. Not materialistically at least, but tonight, the fresh air had me lightheaded and I wanted to bottle it up and take it back home to breathe in when I couldn't stand the clotted atmosphere of my sweaty town. I wanted to be a part of the glitterati in their ignorance of expenditure and live like they live even for just a day so I didn't have to know about people like me and parents who couldn't pay the water bill or even go to work sometimes.
Then I remembered what I endured during this dinner and was yet again grateful I wasn't a part of this world.
Then I remembered my own shitty life and realized we're all pretty much screwed and need to make the most of what we have.
Caleb seemed to have done so when he spoke tonight about Farrah. I could tell there were doubts, but he looked more sure of himself than I'd ever seen him.
Dinner had been tiring, to say the least. Sadie was sweet, like Maria, and I was 100% convinced they would be great friends. Could be, not would be. I didn't think she and Ansel would last long enough for family introductions, though I'd never say that to her.
Marcus was everything I expected Caleb to be when I first signed up for this gig: Overbearing and loud. He seemed nice enough, but I couldn't get over his penchant to try to explain everything to me. At one point he showed me a picture of a vacation he and his Barbie and Ken friends took where he stood atop a boat, looking too tan for his golden hair and actually said the words, "This is a sailboat we're on. It runs on wind."
It. Runs. On. Wind.
If I hadn't been in the middle of the woods surrounded by the enemy, I might have drowned him in the butternut squash soup. At least he didn't mention our impending date.
More like impending doom.
Now I rested on the huge bed in the huge bedroom assigned to me in this huge mansion cabin. It shouldn't have even been allowed to be called a cabin. That made it feel like we were camping. Camping did not include having the option to jump into the Jacuzzi whenever I felt like it, or have a wait staff available at all hours.
It was only nine, but Caleb's family was downstairs probably singing Kumbaya and he was still outside, having his epiphany on how life was much better now that he knew there was life after Farrah and the world didn't really end. I wished I could have one of those lightbulb moments of clarity. I tried. I tried before all this, when Jasper and I kept calling it off, I did my best to picture myself absent of him and to feel that without him everything still mattered. It was a survival instinct, a lifeline which I held onto for dear life until it turned to ash and slipped right through my fingers.
I stayed there, though, staring at the ceiling fan go round and round for what felt like hours, until I couldn't take it. Hoping the Brady Bunch had called it a night early, I slipped out of the room, praying I'd find the kitchen to get a glass of water.
That's when I heard it, what sounded like sobbing and as I got closer, sounded more like gasping for air. It was coming from down the hall, at the very far end. Caleb's room. I lunged inside and found him writhing in his bed. Adrenaline and fear flooded me and I stood there frozen for a second before something sparked within me and propelled me forward.
When I reached him, he was clutching at his chest, eyes closed, but his face was drenched in tears.
"Caleb! Caleb, look at me! What's wrong?" I held his face between my hands, willing him to look at me. "Caleb!" My own breathing was erratic in the fear that threatened to wrap around my throat and choke me.
He gasped and his eyes snapped open as he began to shake, and I was afraid he was having a heart attack.
"Oh, God, please help," I prayed. "What's wrong? Is it your heart? Should I call an ambulance?" I asked stupidly, looking around for his phone by the light streaming in through the window.
He shook his head. "Nightmare."
"What?" I asked, hoping I'd heard right.
He wouldn't look me in the eyes, but he seemed to relax a little, though his breathing still came in short gasps. His eyes blinked rapidly as if he was trying to adjust his focus on reality versus the nightmare which had caused what I now realized had been a colossal panic attack.
"Hey. Hey, look at me," I said, brushing his hair off his sweaty brow. "Just try to breathe. Try to catch your breath. You're fine. You're awake now. It was only a dream."
"It was a n-nightmare...about losing..." He caught my eye, trailing off.
"Oh." It dawned on me and I nodded. "Farrah. Do you take anything?" I guessed he wasn't as sure about it as I'd thought.
He didn't answer me. His eyes were still locked onto mine and now I was the one having trouble breathing.
"You're kind of a mess, pretty boy," I said shakily.
"Yeah. I guess I am."
"I like that."
He managed a weak laugh at that and almost smiled. Belatedly, I realized I was still holding onto him, but my hands refused to let go. Instead, they slid past his cheeks and into his hair of their own volition and when he parted his lips, I knew I was done for.
I pulled him to me and kissed him softly. It sent a shock down my spine and I pulled away quickly.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I—"
But my words were cut off by Caleb's lips on mine.
We kissed. He filled my lungs, my head like smoke, making my heart swell, or draining it, I couldn't tell. But I knew I would regret it. He brought his hands up to my face and cradled my cheek, deepening the kiss. It was slow but hungry. Our teeth knocked into each other's but we didn't miss a beat. We kissed until my lips were raw and a little swollen. Until I pushed him away, both of us panting, a little breathless. And I left his room not saying anything.
If he'd called out to me, I wouldn't have heard it with the blood pounding in my head. My pulse was alive everywhere. I could feel it in my wrists, in my belly, in my neck, and bursting from my chest, pumping too much blood.
He didn't chase after me. I waited, half hoping to hear a knock on my door so he could tell me what a mistake this had been and that we should never do it again because we were just too messy to be real. That I should never have kissed him, and I'd apologize and agree with him.
Half hoping he'd knock on my door and not say anything at all, and he'd kiss me again, because it had been the best thing that had happened to me in months and I couldn't get the static in my brain to stop buzzing like a broken television or my heart to slow down its pounding. It felt like I was going to have a heart attack.
It felt good.
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