always loved you

chapter two

k i e r a n

The problem about dating your best friend is that you know everything about their lifestyle without even realizing it. You know their favorite places to get food after school, their favorite songs, where they live... I guess that's why I hate living in a small town.

Almost five months and the fact I am not over it and over her is getting a little ridiculous. I cannot unsee everything that she is and it's driving me insane.

The way the sun would burn into her gray eyes and brown hair tangled up in the ocean water. Wind blowing around her, taking her laughter with it like leaves. Freckles lined up across her nose, and that stupid wink when she gets her way.

It almost makes the idea of her being with someone else sickening, hurting me in a way that shouldn't. Tailor is the kind of girl I assumed would be nothing but a memory, but after spending time with her, I can disagree with that statement.

I must remind myself that it meant nothing. A summer fling. I should have known better than to think we could have been anything more. Perhaps I'm the naïve one after all.

"Hey bro, bell rang. Let's get out of here." Marcus tries to get my attention. I've been friends with him since elementary school, and nothing has come between us. No girl, no sport – nothing.

The hallway piles up with kids ready to leave, but I always make a point to walk past Tailor's locker in hopes of seeing her. It's a bit weird seeing as how she wants nothing to do with me but seeing her just once gives me enough satisfaction than I'd like to admit.

I got a taste of what real life tastes like, and there was no way I was letting it go again. This girl thinks she can live without me, and although that much is true and better for all of us, I can't help but want to be selfish. To the world, our breakup is what is looked like, but I know the truth...Tailor just has a bad habit of not listening.

Priscilla kisses my cheek before she walks away with her sister, Anna. The Hampton girls share the same shade of copper-red hair and fair skin, although Priscilla has more of a tan than her little sister.

Marcus watches her walk away before turning to me, "You good?"

I've had worse days. Days where all I want to do is drive my car off a bridge, but the urge is not as frequent as it used to be. Days of wanting to forget or pretend everything is fine, but why hide behind your ghosts when you can face them.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm good." I tell him, my mind drifting back to Tailor. I wonder what it would be like to have Tailor in Priscilla's position. Making out before gym class, trying to get my attention all the time, and everything in between.

Marcus adds, "You sure? You've been acting weird lately."

My tone is short. "I'm fine. I'll see you later." I make my way toward the parking lot. I don't understand why Marcus and Priscilla get onto me about my sudden mood changes. Do they forget who I used to be?

Did I?

I drive to my house to pick up some more clothes for the week and a textbook I forgot. My dad's car is nowhere to be found, and it seems the house is left empty. Thank God.

Most sons look up to their fathers, or they like them enough to not end up like them. My dad? Fuck no.

Before my mom died last year, Dad's entire world was her. She was his sun and all that other sappy bullshit. It's ironic that he was having an affair during the chemo and disappeared after. I usually find him passed out on the couch sometimes, but when he's awake he's gone.

Sometimes when he's on his addiction trips and missing for a few days, I'll stay and hang out at the house. On a normal day, I'd spend a night or two at Marcus' place, and sometimes Priscilla if I felt like it. Sleeping in my car is usually a last resort.

Going inside, I'm welcomed by the smell of marijuana and three-day old fishes. My sorry excuse of a father is nowhere to be found so it's easier to pack and clean without interruptions. I haven't been here in at least four days. It's not my fault my father's an alcoholic.

The dark blue walls of my bedroom bore me half to death, but I almost expect something different each time I open the door. With my brother off to college and dad gone, I might as well just spend the night.

The only person who was there when my mom died was Tailor. When everything started going to shit, she was there. I shouldn't be surprised that I saw our breakup coming. Everything else in my life was falling apart and she was the one good thing I had.

The front door opens swiftly, and boots hit the floorboards. It forces me to stop in my tracks, holding in a breath. Chills run down my spine as it forces the oxygen I inhaled to evaporate. A lump in my throat, suffocating me.

"Kieran?" My father slurs. "You here?"

I search around for my car keys but realize I must have left them on the kitchen counter. I grab my bag and storm into the hallway. "Yeah, I'm here." I tell him, not daring to look him in the eye. It could trigger something and I'm not in the mood for a fight...at least not right now.

One quick glance and he's on the couch, small plastic bags and empty bottles all lining up on the coffee table.

Dad leans back, studying me. "You've gotten taller. What're you, six foot now?

I'm six two, asshole.

I scan the counter for my keys, not paying attention to whatever conversation he's trying to have with me.

"And you've got holes in your jeans." He snorts. "Folks'll thinks you're homeless." He lifts one of the beer bottles and tries handing it to me. "Here, son. Have a drink with your old man."

Get it away from me, I want to argue. With my keys in hand and bag on my shoulder, I just walk out the door without saying a word.

I can hear him yelling, trying to convince me to come back inside...but I don't. I turn on my car and as I make it to the main road, a white Nissan stops at the stop sign in front of me. For a second, I don't think much of it until I see Tailor in the driver's seat.