I hate writer's block.
"You can't tell anyone about this. Not ever."
Those were her last words before her lips touched mine and my hands were tangled in her long blond hair.
"Never." It was a mumbled promise but I didn't really need to say anything at all. She knew I'd do what she said. She could have told me to smash my laptop over my head and I'd have done it in an instant (but not without a brief grieving period afterward).
I'd wanted her for how many years now? Four? Five? An eternity. And finally here she was, in front of me, more beautiful than ever, and somehow my body went on autopilot and I became the lover I didn't know I could be.
I'd imagined it a dozen different ways, but never as a secret. I could keep secrets, though. Having her here with me was worth a million secrets and I wouldn't let her down. I'll never let her down.
I think I love her. I know I love her.
She cleared her throat abruptly and then pulled her tongue from halfway down my throat.
"That was fun," she said briskly. "But I have to get going."
"Wait," I complained.
She was already halfway out the door but she turned and gave me a quick little wink. I scrambled to my feet, and she shook her head. "I can show myself out."
I wanted to chase after her but I knew it wasn't a good idea. She isn't exactly a girl you pursue--you just do what she says and bask in her presence, should she grant you the favour. I waited instead until the front door slammed shut, and then I began humming love songs under my breath.
I spent the rest of the afternoon online, hoping she would sign on and at least say hello, but she didn't. I occupied myself instead by cheating on web-quizzes to prove just how perfect we were for each other.
JT signed on and I was about to send him a message of triumph when I remembered. "You can't tell anyone about this. Not ever."
So I didn't.
The taste of her strawberry gloss lingered on my lips and I waited as long as I could to eat. But eventually the hunger pains won and I made myself a peanut butter sandwich for supper. Kate and Dad were away to some party or something--I wasn't entirely sure where--so I had the house to myself. I couldn't help singing as I smeared the peanut butter on both pieces of bread, and I was glad no one could hear me.
She was mine. Mine! Maybe a secret, but we'd kissed. We'd more than kissed. After all these years, she'd noticed me. She'd realised what we could do together.
And then I couldn't wait any longer. I picked up the phone, my mouth still sticky with the nutty paste, and I dialled the numbers I'd memorised the day I met her. She picked up after half a ring and she didn't even say hello.
"Manny, I told you we'd talk about the science project later," she hissed.
"Huh? Manny? No, this is--"
"Look." She lowered her voice to an angry whisper. "You can't call me, okay? Not now, maybe not ever. I thought I made that clear."
"I just wanted--"
And suddenly her voice was sugary sweet. "I'll get in touch with you soon. I promise, this'll be worth it."
With words like that, how could I resist? She hung up before I could respond, but just hearing her voice had made me smile. I wished more than ever that I could brag about this to the whole world.
---
"Um, Emma?" I asked nervously.
"What?" Her voice was impatient, as if even dusting the entire house or cleaning a toilet would be better than talking to me.
"Um, if I...? Hypothetically? If I ever asked you out? What--what would you say?"
"Hypothetically? No."
"Oh." I felt my heart drop and I turned away in a desperate attempt to save face. But before I could go far, she grabbed my arm, her long, thin fingers digging into the slight pudge of my flesh.
"But in practice?" she whispered, her voice suddenly sweet. "In practice, I might have an entirely different answer."
I shot a quick look at her, moving only my eyes, and I wondered if her answer would be yes, or a string of expletives. At this point, however, I had about one nano-shread of dignity left, so it was worth finding out.
"Emma? Would--would you go out with me?"
She paused for a moment, then nodded. "Your parents work during the day? Even in the summer?"
"Um, yeah," I managed. "And evenings, too, for the next few weeks. But what does that have to do with anything? I thought I'd take you out to that new vegetarian restaurant, maybe, or a--"
"Tomorrow night," she cut in. "I'll be at your house at eight o'clock. But you can't tell anyone."
I didn't know then how familiar those words would become--and at that moment, I didn't care. She'd said yes. That was all that mattered. I danced my way home.
---
"Toby, we need to talk."
I was on top of the world until Kate spoke, and in an instant, my heart was in my throat. Her voice was weary and I hadn't seen her looking so old since the day she found out Ashley was staying in England.
"Wh--what is it?" I swallowed hard a few times and then cleared my throat self-consciously. What had I done wrong? I couldn't recall anything, unless having Emma over was a problem? But how could she possibly know about that?
"Is there anything you'd like to say first?" she offered. "We all make mistakes, so if there's something on your conscience, I'd like to hear it from you."
I started to admit to dating Emma, but her words were burned into my brain. "You can't tell anyone about this. Not ever." And so I didn't.
"I haven't done anything," I protested, but I couldn't meet her eyes. I didn't know why being with Emma was such a big deal, or how she found out about us, but I knew that's what I was about to learn.
Kate sighed, and I saw her shoulders droop very slightly. Nobody ever knew it, but I wasn't as socially stupid as I seemed. You learn a lot by just watching, and if there was anything I knew (other than computers), it was body language. "Toby, there's some alcohol missing from the liquor cabinet. The bottles are filled with water instead. I wish you could have talked to me."
"But I didn't--" I protested, and then I got it.
Emma didn't love me.
She didn't care about me or what I wanted or how I felt about her. She was using me, and she didn't even care. She'd betrayed me. If I wanted to, I could have made everything go away in an instant and get my revenge at the same time. But I'd made a promise.
"I'm sorry." I stared down at my shoes so she wouldn't see that I was lying--that for once, I wasn't guilty. I urged myself to replicate the body language that always gave away my untruths. I jiggled one foot and darted my eyes around the room, and I guess she was so convinced of what I'd supposedly done that she didn't bother to question it.
"How long has this been going on?" she asked, her voice deadly calm.
"Um, just a few times. Not very long. I was just... experimenting."
"There's an awful lot missing for experimentation, Toby. I think--I think you should talk to someone."
"What?" This wasn't what I was expecting. At all. I was supposed to be grounded, not sent to therapy. And I was supposed to be worried about Emma's well being, and our relationship--not pissed as all hell. I sighed. Emma--it was for her. All of it was for her.
"Okay," I said finally. "Okay. I'm really sorry."
Kate hugged me then and I tried to convince myself I did have a problem. I tried to force myself to create false memories of alcoholism. Maybe then I could convince everyone else. But right at that moment? I had to talk to Emma.
So I called her up that night and this time when she heard my voice, she didn't bother yelling about how I wasn't allowed to contact her. I guess she knew something was up. I guess she knew that I wasn't as in love with her as I'd been hours before.
We met in a park in the middle of nowhere. I sneaked out--Kate sleeps like a log, and Dad was away on business. I don't know how Emma got there, and I probably never will.
"Hey," she said. She scanned the perimeter before kissing me, and although she probably thought she was being subtle, I picked up on it. Why hadn't I seen it before? Why hadn't I seen that I was being used? She was ashamed of me--not of what she was doing, but of me.
But when I felt her soft lips on mine, and then sticky kisses trailing down my neck, it was hard to resist her charms. I indulged for a moment, and then forced myself to pull away.
"Emma," I said. I tried to be firm, but my voice was shaking, and she barely took notice of me. She began kissing me once more, but then I remembered just how much trouble I was in, and I said her name again--much louder this time.
"What?" she snapped. Her face was twisted in the dim light emanating from the dirty park lamps and suddenly I saw the other side of her--the much uglier, manipulative side that she kept well-hidden. Just as quickly as she'd glared at me, though, she was smiling again.
The bench was splintered and I felt the wood digging into my legs as I tried to decide how to answer. I already had slivers in my palms from where I'd braced myself when she'd tried to kiss me for the second time.
"I know what you did."
"What are you talking about?" But her bottom lip twitched the way it always did when she felt guilty and her eyes flickered to mine as she tried to figure out what I knew. I held her gaze until she looked away, as difficult as it was to not give into her as I was accustomed to doing.
"You used me. You stole my parents' alcohol and you used me."
"I didn't!" she protested. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing?"
But I didn't fall for it, and suddenly she burst into tears. "Toby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you. I didn't want to hurt you."
But I'd known her since grade seven and I'd seen her use tears for manipulation more times than I could count. I started to say as much, but she spoke first.
"Toby, please. Let me make it up to you," she said. "Please. How about--what if we went on a date tomorrow? A real date this time?" The tears were still rolling down her cheeks but there was a glint of deceit in her chocolate eyes. "Just don't tell anyone. And we can be a couple again. Please? Would you go on a date with me?"
I got up and took two slow steps away, but I couldn't keep going. I stood there for a good two minutes, and I knew she was watching me, but I didn't turn around. I didn't want to see her. I didn't want to think about what she'd done. But I had to. I took a deep breath and then turned to face her.
"Hypothetically?" I whispered. "No."