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After an intense game of basketball one afternoon when we were 12, we were goofing off in the house and I threw the ball at Matt. He caught it before he lunged forward, knocking into me. We collided with the cabinet and Mom's crystal vase fell off the shelf, shattering into a million tiny pieces on the hardwood floor. She came running down the stairs, frantic.
"What was that?" she had asked.
Matt and I took a step back as she took in the scene.
Tears streaked down her face as she fell to her knees, picking up the fragile fragments in her shaking hands.
"I'm...I'm so s-sorry, Mom," I said quietly as Matt stood beside me, looking equally devastated.
"It's fine," she cried. "It's just a vase."
But the quick gasps and the stifled sobs said otherwise.
After the vase incident, Dad had the living room carpeted and he bought her a brand-new cabinet with glass doors to store a new vase and the rest of her prized possessions in.
I felt awful. Terrified. Guilty.
Kind of like how I feel right now.
"What is Jen's bathing suit doing in here?"
My whole body is frozen in place and all the muggy air feels like it's been sucked out of the bathroom.
I don't...I don't know what to do. My hands find Kyle's waist and I hold on as tight as I can.
"How the fuck should I know," Kyle returns.
His arm wraps around me as I stand behind him, tears filling my eyes.
No, no, no. Matt can't find out this way. It'll...it'll kill him.
"She took a shower before me," Kyle continues. "Probably just left her swimsuit in here."
There's a long pause.
"You're right, dude. Jen is so disgustingly messy," Matt remarks. "You should see her room. Clothes and crap all over the floor. She never picks up after herself."
Thanks, asswipe. I'll remember that.
"Can you go now?" Kyle huffs, his hand stroking my bare back.
"Yeah," Matt says as we hear the door swing open, then close behind him.
I let out the breath I was holding in as Kyle throws the shower curtain aside and walks over to the door. He messes with the lock for a minute until a loud click echoes through the steaming room.
He climbs back in the shower, wraps his arms around me, rests his forehead against mine.
"My heart is pounding," he says quietly.
I nod my head, place my hand over his chest. "Mine too."
"We have to tell him, Jenny," Kyle pushes. "I hate lying to him. I want people to know you're my girlfriend."
His what?
Did he just say...
"Your girlfriend?" I ask, my voice breathy, fluttery.
