Lingering Touch - A Story of Young Love Read online

  "Okay."

  "Good."

  "Cool."

  "Whatever."

  We were acting like two year olds. What is wrong with us?

  "Umm, okay. So what do you wanna do?"

  "Umm, okay," he mocked me in a high voice "I don't care." He shrugged. "Whatever." Typical answer.

  "Well we could go to my arcade, if you want." He perked up at the suggestion, and looked at me curiously.

  "You have your own arcade?" He seriously looked surprised, even though he'd seen how big my house is and my freaking amazing car.

  "No shit, Sherlock. Down in the basement. Oh, and a bowling alley, but I'm not in the mood for that." I rolled my eyes. "So, you wanna?"

  He grinned at my cussing, surprised. "Sure," He chucked his books into his bag with more enthusiasm than I'd ever seen him have. Soon we were sitting on plastic motorcycles racing each other, and of course I was winning. I played these all the time, please excuse my nerdiness.

  "No fair, you've had practice!" He complained when I beat him for the third time and took off his shirt. I tried not to stare at his well-defined abs.

  "Okay, fine. Let's play air hockey, loser has to take off their pants." We're playing strip-arcade. It's like strip-poker, except we weren't playing poker—obviously—and we weren't planning on stripping all the way, or even getting close. Playing just to play was getting boring, and we had nothing exciting to bet, so we were doing this instead. He was down to his pants, and all I'd taken off so far were my shoes and my jacket.

  "You're on!" He said, smiling, and jogged over to the table. His abs constricted involuntarily, and I couldn't help but ogle a little, cuz they were pretty hot, and I'm just a teenage girl. Bite me.

  He won, but I called a technicality because I was wearing a skirt, so I couldn't actually take off my pants. Score one (or twenty) for me.

  "Fine, shirt it is." He winked at me, and I shrugged and took off my sparkly tank top, revealing my lacy pink Victoria's Secret bra. I'd been dressed in less in front of a guy before, and he obviously had a girlfriend, but I didn't miss the double take he did as I threw the shirt at him playfully.

  Then we heard the door slam upstairs. Crap, that's Dad. Trevor must have seen my terrified glance at the door because he didn't say anything, and I stayed silent. Heavy footsteps thudded across the floor, and I was immensely grateful we brought all our stuff down here instead of leaving them in the kitchen. I heard him stop in front of the door that led to the basement. I held my breath. Then, thankfully, he changed his mind and trudged up the stairs, and slammed his door shut.

  "Who's that?" Trevor stage whispered.

  I shuddered involuntarily and turned to face him, trying to relax my face. "My dad. He isn't exactly... friendly toward visitors." Where did that come from? I wasn't planning on telling him that. Or anything for that matter.

  "Oh," he hadn't been expecting a real answer, either. There was an awkward silence. "So I should probably go, then?" He sounded reluctant.

  "Yeah, I guess so," I was suddenly hyper-aware that neither of us were wearing a shirt and our hair was all mussed from playing and my father was right upstairs, so close to walking in on us. Even though we technically weren't even doing anything.

  He gathered his stuff, slipping his black t-shirt back on. I hastily followed suit and we walked quietly back upstairs.

  The fun, care-free Trevor I had just hung out with was gone, and he was now back to silent and brooding. I offer to give him a ride home—partly just because I didn't want to be home right now—but he tells me he'll just skate. I wondered where he lived, and if he even lived close enough to skate or if he's being nice.

  Once he was gone, I wandered around the house, checking all the usual places for hints of destruction. Dad didn't seem to have done any damage, so I guess that's good, maybe he wasn't even drunk! But it seemed like too much to hope for. I snuck into my room without making a noise, grabbed my iPod, slipped into more comfortable clothes, and put on my sneakers, I didn't care that I already ran today, I needed to let off some steam.

  Chapter 3 - Coconut Shampoo

  Thursday passed slowly. I was looking forward to Friday for some odd reason. Collin texted me once I got home, asking if I wanted to come over to his place, but I just wasn't in the mood for him. I give him some lame excuse about volleyball practice, even though tryouts haven't started yet. He didn't even question it.

  It wasn't exactly a lie, because I did practice some volleyball once I got home. Why couldn't it just be Friday already? I usually hung out with the girls or went out with Collin on Fridays, but that wasn't why I was so excited. I was excited because now I had something else to do on Friday, something that involved long dark hair and icy blue eyes.

  On Friday I woke up to the sound of rain pouring and thunder. Thank goodness I parked the car in the garage.

  "Hey, so I was thinking we could do it at my house today?" Trevor asked me in math. I shrugged, why not?

  "K, cool. Meet outside the school?" I whispered back.

  "Mr. Rushton, do you have something to add to the conversation?" Miss Carmandy looked furious.

  "No, ma'am." He muttered and bowed his head. She shook her head and continued with the lecture. I laughed under my breath at Trevor. He reached back, pretending to scratch his head, but flipped me off instead, which of course made me laugh harder.

  "Ariana. Trevor. Save it for after school, please." Miss Carmandy snapped and glared at us. Everyone else looked at us, and I swear I heard some jaws drop. Nobody knew Trevor and I hang out, so this was incredibly awkward.

  I tried to ignore the looks of my classmates as much as possible.

  I was kind of excited to see Trevor's house as we ran to my car in the rain. I silently mused about what it would be like, and if I'll meet his family, and what they're like. He was quiet as well aside from the occasional directions. His house wasn't exactly the nicest place on the block, but it wasn't too bad, either. It was pretty far away from my house, in one of the lower class neighborhoods.

  Once inside, he tossed his skateboard on the ground by the door and kicked off his shoes, revealing mismatched purple and black socks. Cute. "Mom?" He called almost timidly. When nobody answered he ventured deeper into the house, checking rooms and calling occasionally. I followed him silently, not sure what to make of this.

  In a room at the end of a hall there was a woman with platinum blonde hair. It was ratted and frizzy and looked like it hadn't been washed or brushed or even touched in months. Her cheek bones stuck out prominently, and her eyes were sunken in and lifeless. They're the same shade of blue as Trevor's, but lacking the same life and intensity. She was bone skinny. Her skin was a sickly pale color, like she hadn't seen the sun in years. She was sitting on a couch clutching a blanket and staring blankly at a TV playing some bad sitcom.

  "Hey, mom, this is Ariana, she's here to help me with some homework, k? Do you need anything?" She turned her blank eyes to him and nodded distractedly.

  Trevor sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, then shook it out and turned around… and bumped right into me. I didn't realize while I was staring over his shoulder how close I was to him. He glanced back at his mother who had turned her attention back to the TV, and shut the door slowly. Without a word, he walked around me and back down the hall to the kitchen table.

  "She seems nice," I didn't want to pry, but I was immensely curious.

  Trevor just looked at me, and then he yanked out his book and threw it on the table. He suddenly looked seriously pissed. I didn't really want to do math, either, so I said, "Let's not study today," and dropped my book back into my bag.

  "What?" He glanced sharply at me, still scowling.

  "Yeah, let's do something else. I'm not in the mood today, and we don't have to tell Miss Carmandy. We could go out in the rain or something," I suggested.

  He gave me with a funny look, but before I could figure out what it was, his face neutralized and he shrugged like he was too cool.


  "Come on," I laughed and skipped over to the glassy back door, where I could see the rain still pouring in the backyard. I opened the door and the clean scent of rain washed over me. Mm, I inhaled deeply, drinking in the cool air and sighing.

  I took off my shoes and jacket and ran out into the rain, letting the little drops attack me. I started swirling and dancing and doing cartwheels in the rain, and soon I was completely soaked. But Trevor was still leaning in the doorway, dry as ever, watching me with an amused expression on his face.

  "Aren't you coming?" I shouted, partly to be heard over the roar of thunder and partly just because I was having so much fun.

  "Dunno, looks like you're having fun enough all by yourself out there," he snickered at me and shook out his hair, well let's see if he can do that when he's all wet!

  "Not for long, I'm not!" I laughed and reached out to grab his arm before he had time to process what I was about to do. I yanked his arm and he stumbled past me and out into the rain.

  At first he just looked shocked that I actually did it, and I giggled a little as he stood there, frozen, black hair falling across blue eyes. Then he snapped out of it and turned toward me. He kind of looked scary, standing there all wet and glowering at me. He growled quietly and ran toward me, face alight with a kind of furious amusement.

  He scooped up a hunk of mud from the ground and hurled it at me. It splattered on my stomach, spraying mud everywhere. He chuckled and smugly brushed his hands off. "You asked for it."

  He wasn't expecting the flying ball of mud I threw to hit him in the back of the head.

  I laughed hysterically and prepared my next attack, and soon we were both soaked to the bone and covered head to toe in mud. Once the rain let up I realized I was shivering from the cold and the wind was starting to blow, making it worse. Trevor chucked a final blob of mud on my arm and so I laughed and held up my hands in surrender.

  "Okay, okay, truce?"

  "You're only saying that because I've already won!" He thought about it for a moment. "Okay, fine." He shook my hand in truce, and then looked up at the sky, squinting through his wet lashes. "I guess we should probably go in now, I wonder what time it is?"

  We scraped off as much mud as we could and let ourselves in the house, trying not to drip everywhere. Trevor located a few towels and we did the best we could trying to clean up, but we were still sopping wet and muddy. He walked me to the front door and I looked in dismay at my car and then at my disgusting, muddy clothes. This was going to be a problem.

  "You wanna shower first? You can borrow some sweats or something," Trevor said, sensing my distress. Thank goodness for smart guys.

  "Please?" I practically begged.

  He laughed and walked down the hall to his room. It was a nice little room, but there was a lot of black. Black sheets, black curtains, black desk. But the carpet was a nice blue color, and the walls were almost the same, just a shade lighter, and covered in posters of bands like Linkin Park and Green Day. It was really clean in there, with only a few books and skateboards and things littering the floor. The desk was covered in papers and books, scattered around in messy piles. There was a polished acoustic guitar sitting in the corner on a stand. It looked like it hadn't been touched in months.

  He sauntered over to the closet and pulled out a pair of black sweats and a white Escape the Fate t-shirt. "Here," he handed them to me. I took them gratefully and let him lead me to the bathroom down the hall, where he showed me where the towels were, and then he left me alone.

  It was a little weird, but it wasn't like I'd never showered at Alyssa's house, so I quickly undressed and got in. His shampoo smelt like crisp leaves and cold air and pumpkins. It smelled like Fall, I liked it.

  The sweats were comfy, and they smelled like Trevor. He could have his own brand of cologne, I swear. I didn't have a brush so I just wrapped my hair up in a towel. Trevor was sitting on his bed writing in that suspicious notebook when I walked in, and he tossed it casually on the cluttered desk upon seeing me.

  "That's a nice look for you," he laughed and stood up. He was sitting on a towel, as to not get his bedspread all dirty.

  I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

  "Hey, that's my trademark!" He winked. "Well now it's my turn, if you don't mind. You can stay or go, whatever." He grabbed a shirt and jeans off the bed and walked past me and into the bathroom. Would it be weird if I stayed? Would it be rude if I left? Well I wasn't really in the mood to go home now, so I decided I'd just stay. I sat on the bed and pulled the towel off of my head, brushing through my hair with my fingers. Soon I heard the water start running.

  What was I supposed to do while he's in there? Certainly not homework. What was Trevor doing? Oh yeah, the book! I had seen where he put it, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I took a peek.

  With one last glance at the bathroom door to make sure the water was running and he wouldn't be out for a while, I scooted over to the edge of the bed and lifted the book off the desk, carefully so I didn't disturb any of the other papers. It was so worn out from being thrown around and scribbled in that it looked like it might fall apart, but if he could still write in it I could read it without it breaking.

  The first page explained that this was an autobiography written by Trevor Allan Rushton. What the heck? But I had to admit he was good at writing, even just the explanatory page about what the book was going to be about (and an autobiography, no less, can you get any more boring?) captured my attention and made me want to read it, which is hard to do.

  His handwriting was neat and precise, all the y's and g's ending in curlies and fancy swirls. There's something familiar about the writing, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I dismissed the thought and continued reading. It said that his father was the nicest man he'd ever known, (lucky punk) and he loved Trevor's little sister, Angela, more than anything in the world. Angela died when she was only two in a terrible car crash, Trevor explained the car crash in excruciating detail and I felt like I was there, because he explained it so well. Trevor's dad killed himself shortly after Angela's death, when Trevor was 12. His mother had been depressed since then, and he'd had to grow up too fast to be able to care for her, his twin brother, Travis, and himself. But Travis ran away from home after a few years, when Trevor was 15, they haven't seen or heard from Travis since, except for one birthday card on Trevor's 16th birthday, sent from somewhere in Florida.

  Trevor then had to take care of his even more depressed mother without Travis's help, but luckily his father had a high insurance amount, so when he died, Trevor and his mother got a couple thousand dollars, some of which he mailed to the address Travis was last heard from. Trevor had to learn very quickly how to pay taxes and bills at a young age because his mother was unable to in her condition, and he learned that if he managed the rest of the money from his father's death carefully, they might be able to live off it for a while, along with the money he made from his job.

  Trevor took care of his mother because she couldn't take care of herself; she was still depressed five years after her husband's death. He explained how he thought she might start getting over it if they moved, and he got a good deal on plane tickets to California, and he figured the drastic change in weather and community would speed her recovery along. They had made the move in June, and she still hadn't even realized they're out of New York. He wrote that he hopes that one day he'll be able to get her out of the house and maybe into therapy so she can get over it, but worries when this will happen because he'll be going off to college before too soon and he won't be able to take care of her anymore. He also worries about Travis often, wondering where he is and if he's ok. Travis was always sort of a wild child, but naturally good at poker, so hopefully he wasn't at least broke.

  But apparently Trevor's life hasn't been all sad. He played guitar, he wrote that playing guitar was one of his favorite things to do, but he was really self-conscious about it, so he rarely ever played for anyone else. It also said he hasn't played in a while becau
se it brought back too many memories. Singing and playing for Angela on her birthday. His father returning home from work on his birthday with a brand new guitar. His mom laughing and singing along with his awful playing on the first day.

  And he often wrote about a girl named Sarah. From what I read she had long, thick black hair that was almost always curly and perfect. It smelled like coconut, and the way he describes it, he liked it a lot. He made her sound totally gorgeous. It was adorable, really, reading about how amazing he thought this Sarah character was. But there was a bittersweetness to the way he described her and their interactions. He would play his guitar for her and even sometimes sing for her, even though he didn't think he was very good. But she loved it when he played for her, and he said she would practically melt in his arms when he played "Lucky" by Jason Mraz for her. They must have had a really close relationship, probably boyfriend and girlfriend, and they sounded something like Amber and Drew, except they both had black hair and Sarah seemed to be the loud one, while Trevor stayed by her side and followed her around like a lovesick puppy that he was.

  I was about to read what happened between them when the water suddenly shut off. I hastily shut the book and placed it back gently on the desk in the same place I found it, feeling guilty for reading so much of Trevor's personal life, and still feeling regretful that I didn't get to see what happened between him and Sarah. When he walked in I was sitting on the floor looking at my math book, trying to appear casual.

  He sat on the bed and watched me for a moment. I pretended not to notice.

  "Why'd you stay?"

  The question surprised me. "I didn't want to go home," and I wanted to read that mysterious book of yours, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

  "Huh."

  He went back to watching me pretend to read my book. But I couldn't concentrate when I felt his piercing blue eyes on my back. I ignored him as best I could, I even pretended to get out my phone and answer Collin's text. (hey babe, what r u doing tonight?)