I lay my hand on the back of Reagan’s head and stroke down the length of her hair. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you,” I say quietly.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to be touched,” she says. I can feel the words against my chest, ripe with longing.
She inhales deeply and loosens her clutch on my midsection. Cool air wafts in where her warmth was, and I want to pull her back to me. “I’ll see you later, Pete,” she says.
“You all right?” I ask.
“Honestly, I’m a little overwhelmed, and I have some things to think about.” She looks up at me, but her eyes are clouded by something I don’t understand. “I need some time to myself.”
I nod. I don’t know why. “Can I do anything for you?” I ask. I tuck her hair behind her ear.
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I’m going to take a break.”
She pats my chest with a quick good-bye tap, and then she walks away. She goes inside the house, and she doesn’t come back out. She doesn’t come back out to lifeguard for the youth group at the pool. She doesn’t come back out to roast marshmallows. She doesn’t come back out to check on her horse. She doesn’t come out the next morning to start events with the campers. She doesn’t come outside again at all until the next night, when a neon-yellow Mustang pulls into the drive. Chase Gerald gets out and goes to get my girl. Then she finally comes out. On his f**king arm.
Reagan
I needed some time to get my head on straight. It’s still a little crooked, but it feels a little better than it did. I slide my jeweled sandals onto my feet and tug at the length of my dress. I don’t usually wear dresses, but this night is fancy. It’s a country club dinner; it’s not black tie, but it’s really dressy. I’m wearing a sheath dress that wraps and ties at my hip. It’s kind of clingy but not in a bad way. I turn and look at my butt in the mirror. I look all right. I arrange my hair in an updo, so that it’s wrapped up and off my neck with little tendrils hanging down. I line my eyes with light eyeliner and mascara and apply some blush. I’ve been in the sun all summer, so I’m sure I don’t need foundation.
A knock sounds at my door, and my mom sticks her head in. She’s wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as she comes through the door. She whistles at me. “Don’t you look nice,” she says, nodding in appreciation. She walks over to my jewelry box and flips it open. “You want to wear Grandma’s pendant with that?” she asks. I hadn’t even thought about jewelry.
I turn around, and she puts the necklace around my neck. I lean over and let it dangle. I slide on some clanky bracelets and push them up my arm. They’ll fall in a second, but they look nice.
I hold my hands out to the side. “Do I look like a normal girl?” I ask.
Her face softens. “Honey, you are a normal girl,” she says softly. She narrows her eyes at me. “Why are you going on this date?” she asks.
“Because I couldn’t get out of it,” I admit. “And now I don’t want to let Chase down.”
She shakes her head. “He’s not the one for you, is he?” she asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never given him enough of a chance to find out.”
She doesn’t say anything. My mom is good like that. She’s quiet when the situation calls for quiet, and she has a lot to say when the situation calls for that, too. “Your dad shouldn’t have pushed this date.”
I shake my head. “What if he’s right? What if Chase is the one for me? I won’t know until I find out.” I heave a sigh.
“The heart wants what the heart wants, Reagan,” she says.
I laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“I think you already know what it means.” She sits on the edge of my bed. “This Pete,” she says. “You trust him, right?”
“About as much as I can trust anyone I met three days ago,” I say flippantly. But Pete’s more than that, and I know it.
“Your heart has known him for a very long time,” she says.
“My heart doesn’t work like everyone else’s heart,” I bite out. “I can’t trust it to lead me anywhere.”
“Oh, Reagan,” she breathes softly. “I f**king hate that man for doing this to you. It’s been over two years and you still don’t trust yourself to move on with your life. It’s like you’re stuck in that moment when he hurt you.”
“You don’t know what it feels like, Mom,” I say quietly in warning. She can’t talk about this. She hasn’t experienced it.
“Did you know that one in five college-age girls will be raped during her college career?” she asks. “One in five, Reagan!” she cries.
“And?” I say. “Life goes on, is that what you’re saying?” I ask. My life didn’t go on. I got stuck in that moment. Until Pete. “Pete makes me want things that scare me,” I admit.
“That’s what love is about, Reagan. It’s thrilling and scary as hell and it makes your heart pound and it makes your insides ache.” She stops and glares at me. “Those feelings are normal. What’s not normal is what happened to you and how you closed yourself off to protect your heart.”
“Well, my heart is officially in danger,” I say drolly.