Beside You Ch. 33: I Wish

Chapter Thirty-Three: I Wish

I held him for a while.

There were moments when I was sure he was starting to calm down.

His breathing would stop, then he would struggle to calm himself down again.

He was taller than me by quite a bit. I don't think this position is easy on him either.

"Michael," I said, "Take your shoes off."

He released his death grip on me, and I moved back a little so he could take off his shoes.

I watched him step out of each of them with the help of his opposite foot.

I did the same.

My shoes ended up at the end of the bed next to his.

"On the bed," I said.

He didn't look up at me. He just moved right to the bed.

"Keep going," I said.

He sat on the bed and kept his gaze down.

I stepped in front of him.

Part of me was expecting him to look up at me.

He didn't.

He might be embarrassed.

He didn't need to be.

I brought my hand up to gently guide his chin up.

Once he registered what I was doing, he turned his head quickly to the right.

"Michael?"

He didn't budge.

I leaned down to press my lips to his cheekbone.

He tried to turn away, but my hand stopped him.

He let me place more kisses on the side of his face.

"It's okay," I said.

He shook his head slightly.

I moved back a little to look at him.

I waited a minute to make sure he was alright.

"Will you lay down with me?" I asked.

I waited for his answer.

It was quiet for a while before he finally spoke.

"Yes," he said softly.

"Okay," I said.

I moved around him, and I crawled onto the bed.

He glanced back before standing up.

Where was he going?

I watched him walk around the bed.

"Michael?"

Once he was on the other side, he pressed his palm to the mattress and awkwardly made his way towards me.

I laid on my back and reached for him.

He dropped his head onto my chest before nuzzling in closer to my left side.

I kept forgetting about his arm.

He had to be on this side so that he could lay down without hurting his arm.

He was pressed pretty firmly against me.

I could feel his forehead on my neck.

I brought my right hand up to gently wipe at his cheeks.

"Stop," he said, turning his face into my chest.

My hand dropped.

I wanted to do whatever I could to help him feel better.

"This is embarrassing," he mumbled.

His face was still nuzzled into my collar bone.

"You don't have to worry about that," I said, "I'm only trying to comfort you, not judge you."

I felt his head finally turn back.

"Don't forget that I am also your friend," I stated.

I felt him nod.

"I've never seen you upset like this," I admitted, "I'm not sure what to do."

"Nothing you can do," he said.

His voice was so quiet it was a little hard to hear him.

"I can at least try," I said.

"I'm pissed off," he said, "And there is nothing I can do about it."

I brought my left hand up to rub his back.

"If there's nothing I can do," he said, "What can you do?"

I turned my head to rest my cheek on his head.

"I can try my best to help you calm down," I said, "Even if it means I just stand there, or if I hold you."

He didn't respond.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked.

"The story," he said, "You said you'd tell me."

I was hoping he would forget.

I didn't really have one.

I had to rack my brain.

After a few quiet minutes, it came to me.

"It's a story my father used to tell me," I said, "I think some of it was from a book. The rest he just made up."

Michael nodded.

"When I was little, I was obsessed with Mermaids," I admitted.

I could hear his small laugh.

"You and every other little girl," he teased.

"Yeah," I said, "Probably."

He wasn't wrong.

Mermaids and magic are what little kids dream of.

More magic than Mermaids specifically.

"What made this one so special?" Michael asked.

"It's not your average tale," I said, "But in some ways, it's pretty cliché."

I was actually a little nervous to tell this story.

I'm not sure I can do it justice.

"There is a point in every Mermaid's life where they discover their destiny," I said, "This Mermaid just so happened to have a dream on the day she was to be engaged to the prince."

"Mer-Prince?" Michael asked.

"Yes," I said, "And she knew in her heart that she didn't love him."

He didn't make a comment this time.

"You see, her sister was madly in love with the prince," I said, "And after the engagement was announced, her sister played a cruel prank on her."

"Why?"

"I'm telling the story," I said, "Her sister didn't care that she didn't want to marry the prince. The prince had eyes for her sister, not her. That is the real reason behind her cruelty."

"Asshole," Michael muttered.

"There was only one thing that really scared her," I said, "And that was what was beyond the ocean they lived in."

"Cliché," Michael said.

"Naturally," I said, "The prank was to get her above the surface, to face her fear."

"Then she gets snatched up or seen?"

I flicked his ear.

"She sees sand," I stated, "And she isn't sure what to make of it."

"Sand sucks," he said, "So I don't know either."

"It was only after returning that she realized it was a prank," I said, "Once she faced her fear, she learned that only one thing really scared her."

"Marrying the Prince."

"Yes," I said, "And making her sister unhappy."

"Her sister sounds like a cunt."

"She is," I said, "But that isn't the point."

"Go on," he said, "Then what?"

"She tries to find any way out of this marriage," I said, "No matter what, she knew she had to get out of it."

I felt Michael adjust his head on my chest.

"Each day closer to the wedding, she gets more desperate," I said, "Until one night she decides to go to the only place she knows he won't follow her."

"The surface."

I nodded.

"A stormy night leads to her getting caught in a fishnet," I said.

"There it is."

"They say that Mermaids are magic," I said, "And that catching one will get you a wish."

"Hmm," Michael hummed.

"Because of this magic, she is able to trade her tail for legs," I said, "But there is always a price."

"Her sight or her voice?"

"Her voice," I said, "But the captain of the ship took mercy on her and took her into his cabin."

"Mermaid sex?"

"No," I said, "And she has legs now."

"Is there eventually Mermaid sex?" he asked.

"This is a children's story," I stated.

"I'm not interested if there is no Mermaid sex," he said.

"Alright then," I said.

We laid there silently for a while.

"Then what happened?" he asked.

He asked quietly as if he didn't really want to let me know he was interested.

I found myself smiling.

"He takes her to his home," I said, "Where she is welcomed by his family."

"Seriously?" he asked, "That easy?"

"Well, it's sort of like a Fairy Tale," I stated, "Most of the details are left out."

He sighed.

"It takes time to get to know people," I stated, "They had time, and she had a place she felt safe."

"Then what?"

"With time, they came to love each other," I said, "But in most stories, there is always something that stops the two from being together."

"What happened?" he asked.

"This is the part I'm not clear on," I admitted, "My father always changed this part."

"What did he say?"

"He chose his family over her," I said, "And for some reason, he drew back."

"Drew back?" Michael asked, "Why?"

"His brother also loved the Mermaid," I said, "And he chose his brother's happiness over his own."

"The opposite of her sister."

I nodded.

"She couldn't bear the idea of not being with him," I stated, "So she returned to the sea."

"How?" he asked, "She had legs."

"My father didn't tell me the real ending until I was older," I stated, "But she drowned trying to find her way back home."

"Was this story supposed to make me feel better?" he asked.

"I was just trying to help you calm down," I admitted, "I didn't really have a story. I was just going to make one up."

He didn't say anything.

"I couldn't come up with one on the spot," I said, "So I just said the first one I thought of."

"It was sad," he said, "He loved her, but he let her go."

"I think he said it was like that old saying," I said, "If you love something, you let it go. If it comes back to you, hold onto it."

"She couldn't come back," he stated, "She was dead."

This story was a bad idea.

I felt stupid for even thinking of it.

"You loved this story?" he asked.

If I had to really think about it, the answer would be no.

"It wasn't really the story that I liked," I admitted, "It was the time I spent with my dad when he told it to me."

He sighed.

"And part of me always hoped that he would tell me the version where she came back," I said.

"Did she?"

"No," I said, "And neither did he."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's okay," I said, "If he really wanted to be here, he would be."

"It doesn't always work that way," he said.

I get that, but at the same time, I didn't.

My father always told me how much he loved me.

When I needed him the most, he wasn't there.

I get that he was accused of something horrible.

All he had to do was wait until I was old enough to speak for myself.

"Ren?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me a different ending," he said.

It caught me a little off guard, honestly.

"A different ending?"

"Yeah," he said, "How would it end if you wrote it?"

I had to really think about that.

No matter how hard I thought about it, I just wanted her to come back.

Maybe more than that, I just wanted her to have never left at all.

"How would you end it?" I asked.

"You first."

"I'd have her stay," I said, "But if she had to leave…."

I hesitated.

"If she had to leave?" he asked.

The words were already on the tip of my tongue before I thought them.

"Then I would have her brought back by a wish," I said, "From him catching her."

"Even though it was the net?"

"Maybe not everything is so literal," I stated, "Maybe someone had to catch more than just the Mermaid. Maybe the wish had to be given."

"I like your ending better," he said.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"What does he wish for exactly?" he asked.

"He wishes for her to come home," I said, "To be with him and his family."

"To be his family?" Michael asked.

"Yeah," I said.

We both lay there for a while.

It felt like a good twenty or thirty minutes before he broke the silence.

"I like that ending much better," he said, "I know it's unrealistic, but I wish all endings were happy ones."

It was strange to hear him say that.

"Me too," I admitted, "It would be nice if bad things never happened."

It was the first time I heard Michael talk like this.

Was it for him that he wanted a happy ending?

Was it for Benny and Gus?

"Can I ask you something?" he asked.

"Go ahead."

"Do you think bad things happen because of things we did in a past life?" he asked, "Or do you think God is just cruel?"

I wasn't even sure where to begin with that.

"I'm not sure," I admitted, "I'd like to think that nothing we do is bad enough for it to carry over like that."

"Really?"

"I mean," I said, "Maybe if someone is pure evil."

He was silent.

"But even then, aren't most people that do things like that sick?" I asked, "How can a God punish someone for being ill?"

"You think so?" he asked.

He sounded off.

"If someone is sick like that," I said, "Then doesn't that mean that their mind is already chemically different?"

He pushed away from me to sit up.

"Michael?"

He didn't respond.

I leaned forward so that I could rest my head against the back of his right shoulder.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Is that really what you think?" he asked.

He asked just loud enough that I could barely hear.

"About what?"

He tensed.

"Someone sick," he supplied.

I was a little confused.

"What do you mean?"

He didn't respond right away.

I waited a few good minutes before he finally spoke again.

"Do you really think someone sick isn't evil?" he asked, "That they can be forgiven?"

Where was this coming from?

What I said wasn't in that context.

"Forgiveness is up to those who were wronged," I stated, "But I feel that sickness should be taken into account."

"Even if a sickness caused you to hurt the people you love the most?" he asked.

I glanced up at the side of his face.

He stared forward, but I could see the tremble in his chin.

"I can't speak for every instance," I said, "But if they don't realize what they're doing, isn't that the definition of sickness?"

"If the people wronged forgive them," he said, "Do you think that would make a difference?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, "A difference to what?"

"In general," he stated, "To God."

I wasn't the person to talk to about God.

I wasn't raised with faith in my house.

Maybe if I were, my mother wouldn't have done what she did.

Maybe my father wouldn't have left.

My dad had faith though.

Enough to believe that my mother wasn't capable of doing what she did.

"I don't know," I admitted, "My dad used to say that God knows your true feelings. If that's the case, he can see through your sickness."

"Hmm." He hummed.

"Forgiveness isn't for them," I stated, "It's for those that were hurt. It helps them move on."

"How?" he whispered.

How had we gotten here?

What was even happening?

"I don't know," I admitted.

What was this about?

Was this about his own mother?

Both Michael and Benny told me that she was sick.

My eyes lingered on his neck.

More than half of his scars were because of her.

What had he gone through?

"My dad used to say that true forgiveness comes from acceptance," I said, "When you're ready to move on from that pain, only then can you forgive."

"Sounds like a load of bullshit."

"Yeah," I said, "But not everybody is the same."

"What about you?" he asked.

Huh?

"What about me?" I asked.

"Steven," he said, "Do you forgive him?"

That was a little complicated.

"I'm trying to," I confessed, "But I don't think I have yet."

"Do…" he hesitated, "Do you want to forgive him?"

"I do," I said, "But that doesn't mean I plan to be his friend after."

"Do you think it will make you feel better?"

"Probably not," I said, "But it will make what happened less painful to remember."

He was silent for a bit before he spoke again.

"Do you think some people don't deserve forgiveness?"

He was hitting me with all of the hard questions, wasn't he?

Why?

"I don't know," I said, "I haven't met someone like that yet."

He sat there for a bit.

I could feel his deep intakes of breath.

"If you could have one wish," he asked, "What would you wish for?"

That was a hard one.

So many things went through my mind.

"I'm not sure," I admitted, "Too many things come to mind."

"Name one," he said.

His tone sounded hurt.

"That my family didn't fall apart," I said, "That I didn't have this birthmark."

He turned to look at me.

Even though it was only over his shoulder.

"You hate your birthmark that much?" he asked.

"Not as much as I used to," I said, "But I was bullied because of it."

It got bad enough that I had to change schools a few times.

"That pisses me off," he stated, "If we went to school together, I would have protected you."

Really?

I felt my eyes starting to sting.

I could only imagine a life where it was like that.

So many things would be different.

"It's a part of you," he said, "It's part of what makes you so beautiful."

This boy…

How could I not feel the way I do about him?

"What about you?" I asked, "What would you wish for?"

My first thought was that he would wish for something similar.

His family didn't break up.

His mother never got sick.

His dad never died.

"I," he stopped.

"You what?" I asked.

"It's a wish I have made many times before," he admitted.

"You can tell me," I said.

His jaw tightened.

I watched as he turned his head to the left so that I couldn't see his face.

"I wish," he said quietly, "I wish all the time that I was never born at all."

The second the words left his mouth, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't speak.

I couldn't even move.

What was happening?

His head turned slightly to see if I heard him.

My body moved too fast for me to even realize what I was doing.

I moved in front of him and wrapped my arms around him.

I was angled awkwardly over him.

My face was buried in his neck.

I wanted to tell him not to say that.

It wasn't my place.

"My world would be a darker place without you in it," I said against his neck.

I shut my eyes as tight as I could so that I wouldn't cry.

He felt like this all the time?

"You barely know me," he breathed.

"That doesn't matter to me," I said, "With you here, I have the time to know you."

"Ren," he sounded pained.

I realized then that I would take getting bullied a million times over just to be here.

"I take it back," I said, "I don't need a wish."

His arm pulled me closer.

"Coming here and meeting you guys has changed everything for me," I said, "If I have you, I don't need anything else."

His hold on me tightened.

"There's a pretty good chance that I'll get sick one day," he said, "I can't expect you to always forgive me."

I think I was leaning a little too much on Michael because he fell back.

We landed awkwardly, and I didn't know what to do.

He landed on my arms and it kind of hurt.

I had to move back a little to pull my arms out from under him.

His arm around me tried to pull me back.

It felt strange to even think it, but I was pretty sure I could forgive him for almost anything.

I was almost certain I was in love with him.

It was way too soon, way too fast.

I wasn't even sure when it started or how it happened.

"No one knows what will happen," I said, "You don't know if you'll get sick at all."

"I will," he said, "After everything, I would deserve it."

"Says who?" I snapped.

I moved back to hold his face in my hands.

I was still awkwardly on his right side, but I was able to lean over him.

"Everyone," he breathed.

I shook my head, "Not everyone."

"Maybe not now," he said, "But you will."

I could see the hurt in his dark blue eyes.

I shook my head before resting my forehead to his.

"You shouldn't be here with me," he whispered, "You deserve better."

I could feel his hot breath on my face.

"Okay," I said, "But what about what I want?"

His hand went to my neck and gently pulled.

My lips met his softly.

So many emotions went through me.

I pressed a little harder, kissing him deeper.

His mouth opened to take in a shallow breath.

"Michael," I breathed into him.

Our kisses became a little needier.

His tongue would gently glide over mine.

Every time he would move back a little to breathe, our kisses would get hungrier.

My body tingled.

His body against mine made me feel dizzy.

"Ren," he gasped.

I wanted him.

Right now.

I think he wanted me too.

He rolled onto his side so that my awkward angle over him wasn't so awkward anymore.

I needed to catch my breath.

He didn't stop kissing me.

His lips went to the side of my face, to my jaw, then to my neck.

I heard him inhale sharply.

My face turned to find his lips again.

I could kiss this boy forever.

It felt too good.

I'd give up oxygen if it meant I didn't have to disconnect myself from him.

A knock on the door made both of us freeze.

His eyes met mine.

I'm sure his expression mirrored mine.

Disappointment and surprise.

I moved back so that it wasn't so obvious what we were doing.

The door opened even though no one said to come in.

I turned to see Bailee standing in the doorway.

"You're still awake?" She asked.

It was obvious, did I really need to respond?

Michael used his good arm to help him sit up before looking at her.

"I see both of you are awake," she said.

Michael didn't say anything.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Bailee asked.

He glanced back at me.

"With you, Michael," she said.

Michael kept his eyes on me.

I could see the concern in his gaze.

I didn't want him to go, but I also didn't want her to stay.

"I think we're overdue for a one-on-one," Bailee stated.

Again, his eyes never left me.

"Ren and I were in the middle of something," he stated.

"Michael," she said sternly, "I insist."

He frowned.

I suddenly got the feeling that she used that line on him a lot.

"I'll be down in a minute," he said.

"Alright," she said, "Don't be long."

Once she shut the door on the way out, Michael sighed.

"Fuck," he said.

I nodded.

"She still doesn't believe we have anything going on," he said.

Little did she know.

"I don't want to go down there," he stated.

I get that.

I didn't want him to go either.

"I'd much rather undress you," he said.

I had to swallow the saliva that pooled in my mouth.

"I was looking forward to you on top of me again," he leaned forward to whisper.

I stared at him.

I didn't like the ache that came with being around him.

My body hurt in ways it never did before.

"It really is a shame that we'll be here all weekend," he sighed.

I watched him move to the side of the bed to get to his feet.

"I'll be back," he said, "Try to get some sleep."

Really?

He left the room and shut the door behind him.

I found myself staring at the door long after he had gone.

++++++++++

I couldn't sleep.

He's been down there for nearly an hour.

What were they talking about?

I was feeling uneasy.

She wasn't trying to get him to leave me, was she?

Even though we weren't technically together.

A girl can still have hope.

My mind was running wild. I hated it.

I pulled my phone out to chuck the time.

It was almost one.

Why did it feel so much later?

Was it because we went right to the room?

I sighed.

I wanted to sleep.

Well, more like I wanted to want to sleep.

I heard a noise from the hallway, and I was quick to sit up.

Who was that?

The handle turned just before the door opened slowly.

It seemed like whoever it was, was trying to be as quiet as possible.

After a few long seconds, I could see dirty blond hair.

It was Michael.

When he laid eyes on me, he sighed.

"I had a feeling you might still be up," he said.

He moved into the room, but he didn't close the door all the way.

"Come downstairs with me."

That caught me off guard a little.

"What?" I asked.

He walked forward until his legs hit the mattress.

"I was worried you might be freaking out," he said, "So I came to get you. "

Really?

He was worried about me?

I wasn't really sure what to say.

"Do you not want to?"

My head shook frantically, "I'll go.'

The slight smile on his face tugged at my heart.

"Also," he said once I was off of the bed, "I'm curious."

I turned to meet his eyes, "About what?"

His smile got a bit wider.

His gaze was serious.

"Did you touch yourself after I left?"

My stomach dipped.

It felt a little like the sensation of falling.

Maybe because I fell into his trap.

"I didn't," I admitted, "But I thought about it."

I nearly whispered the second part.

He hummed, almost sounding pleased.

"I would have liked it if you did."

His voice alone sent a tingling sensation over my entire body.

The words he spoke brought the ache back.

"Alone in my room," he said, "In my bed."

My body was trembling.

"I've done it plenty of times here myself."

I couldn't even respond to his words.

The only noise I would get out would resemble a squeak.

"I wanted to come up here sooner," he admitted, "I was hoping to catch you."

"You were?" I breathed.

Why was I so out of breath?

The corner of his mouth turned up.

"When I was downstairs talking to Bailee," he said, "All I could think about was what you might be doing."

How could he say stuff like that so seriously?

"Honestly," he chuckled, "It was driving me a little crazy."

Really?

"Maybe I'm just a bad person," he said.

He let out a noise that sounded like a groan but mixed with something else.

"You're not a bad person," I said.

"I really am," he said, "You haven't seen me at my worst."

I've seen him go through some shit since I've been here.

I wasn't exactly sure what he meant by his worst.

He obviously didn't show it to me for a reason.

"We should go," Michael said, "I told Bailee I would be right back."

I nodded.

Before I reached the door, he stopped me.

"Before we go down there," he said, "I wondering…."

Was he trying to do dirty things?

"Do you know what mutual masturbation is?" he asked.

I just stared at him.

What? Wasn't that just sex?

"Touching each other?" I asked.

"Sort of," he grinned, "One of these days, soon, we should do that."

"Sort of like touching each other?"

Do it soon?

I thought he wanted us to go downstairs, not cause me to overheat.

"It's basically me touching myself while watching you finger yourself," he stated.

I mean, it sounded hot.

Right now, he needed to cool down.

"Sorry," he said, "I'll stop."

Was it that obvious?

"I'm horny," he said, "And you're just so innocent."

I glared at him.

"I'm not messing with you," he stated, "Everything I say makes your legs tighten just a little."

He noticed?

"It makes me think about the first time," he said, "When I pried your legs apart."

The dip in my stomach felt lower.

"I'm looking forward to what happens once my arm is better," he said.

I was too.

It made me feel guilty every time I saw him wince in pain.

He took a deep breath once he finally broke eye contact with me.

"Come on," he said, "Let's get this over with."

"Did she ask for me?" I asked.

I was worried that she was going to interrogate me again.

"No," he said, "All me."

He opened the door so I could walk out first.

He wanted me down there with them?

It was sweet, but I could already feel the nerves.

I followed him down the stairs and into the large kitchen.

"Ren," Bailee greeted, "You're still up?"

I nodded awkwardly.

"Join us," she said, "Take a seat."

She didn't sound as cold as she did before.

I nodded.

My attention went to the chair on the other side of the island.

"Here," Michael said.

I looked at him.

He sat in the chair on the side of the island. Not too far from Bailee, but still not next to her.

There?

My hand landed on the chair so I could pull it over, but he interrupted.

"Here," he said again, but he pat his thighs this time.

Oh.

No.

"Come here," he said.

His gaze was serious.

It made me remember his words from earlier.

"She can have her own seat," Bailee said, "You don't want too much weight on one chair."

It irritated me to hear her say that.

"It's fine," Michael said, "Two people aren't going to break these chairs."

I moved over and stood next to Michael.

You bet your ass I was going to sit on his lap now, just to spite her.

Calling me heavy.

I felt his hand on my waist, leading me.

I was worried about my weight already, but Michael didn't care.

How did he not care?

What if I hurt his legs like I did his arm?

I sat on his lap.

"A little more this way," he whispered.

He steered me a little sideways on his lap.

I moved just a little, and I could feel something.

He gently pats my thigh.

Boy was hard.

I Didn't know what to do.

He's warm and oddly comfortable.

As I sat there, I realized I didn't really lean on his bad arm.

That's why he had me a little angled.

"Ready for another drink?" Bailee asked.

"Like I said," Michael stated, "I'm taking pills for my arm. I shouldn't."

"You're not going anywhere," she said, "One drink won't hurt."

"That's why I had one," he stated, "I'm good."

She ignored him.

I watched her pour the golden-brown liquid into two glasses.

She pushed the second glass towards us.

"Ren," Michael said.

I leaned forward a little to grab the glass.

Michael's hand went to my waist again.

"It's much too strong for her," Bailee said.

"Let her try it first," Michael stated.

Looking at the glass, I clearly remember what happened the last time I drank.

Well, the last time I drank with him.

"Go ahead," Michael said.

I brought the glass to my lips and took a drink.

It burned, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

His right hand left my side to grab the cup.

He drank the remaining alcohol before placing the glass back in my hand.

I set it on the counter.

"One more for Ren," Michael said.

I watched as Bailee silently reached for the glass to pour more into it.

When it was about a quarter full, she slid it back to me.

"Thank you," I said.

She nodded.

"Are you a drinker?" she asked.

I took the glass into my hand awkwardly.

"Not usually," I admitted, "But I have had a bit."

Bailee finished off her glass.

Shit.

Was I supposed to sip it, or was I supposed to chug the damn thing?

As I brought the glass to my lips, my brain finally decided.

Down that bitch.

I drank all of it.

"Ren," Michael said into my shoulder, "You don't have to force yourself to drink it so quickly."

I swallowed hard.

It really did burn.

The second time wasn't as bad.

I set the glass on the counter again.

Bailee stared at me as if waiting for something.

It made me a little uncomfortable.

I tried not to squirm in my seat because of Michael.

He'd grip my waist if I moved too much.

After a few awkward minutes of silence, Michael mentioned something about a computer.

I wasn't following, honestly.

My gaze went to the pristine countertop.

"Ren?"

I turned my head to see Bailee staring at me again.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Tell me the story," she said, "How did the two of you meet?"

I glanced back at Michael.

He only rested his chin on my shoulder.

"Well," I said, "I'm Benny's roommate."

Bailee nodded.

I knew she had to know at least that much.

I'm pretty sure I've heard Benny mention it to her before.

"It was the day after I first got there," I said, "To Pruitt's."

"Oh," she looked surprised.

"Benny invited me to see a movie," I said, "She asked if she could bring her friends, a date for her and a date for me."

"Have you been dating this whole time?" she asked.

She looked concerned.

"No," Michael sighed.

"I wasn't asking you," she said, "You had your chance. Now I'm asking Ren."

Had his chance?

So, she was only asking me because he refused? Or was she trying to see if our stories matched up?

"I'm not exactly sure when we became official," I said, "We just spent a lot of time together, and then it happened."

"How vague," Bailee said.

"It's true," Michael stated.

"We're still a little awkward with each other," I said.

Bailee looked from me to him.

"Maybe that was why I didn't see it," she stated.

Bailee leaned forward to grab my glass again before filling it just under the halfway line.

Michael sighed.

"This is for Ren," Bailee stated, "Since we're talking."

I get it now.

Bailee slid the glass to me before pouring more alcohol into her own cup.

I picked it up, but Michael's hand left my hip.

He took the cup from me and took a drink of it.

He drank a little less than half.

"She doesn't have the same tolerance we do," Michael stated.

He set the glass back in my hand.

It felt a little strange as I did it, but I was a little too conscious of the fact his lips were on the glass seconds before.

I could see the mark.

I turned the glass so that I would finish the drink from the same place he did.

The burn was barely there this time.

"Hey guys," Benny said.

When did she get here?

I set my glass down before looking at her.

"Drinking?" she asked.

"Just a bit," Bailee said.

Gus was the next person I saw.

"You guys are still up?" he asked us.

"Yeah," I said.

Michael just moved his head back a little before withdrawing his hand.

I guess it was one thing to do it in front of Bailee.

"What brings you guys down?" Michael asked.

"Hunger calls," Gus said.

"There is leftover chicken that Mrs. Sidney made," Bailee stated.

"Not chicken," Benny said, "Is there bread?"

"Yes," Bailee stated, "In the box on the counter."

"Grilled cheese?" Gus asked.

"Yes," Benny said.

"Anybody else?" Gus asked.

"Sure," Michael said, "One for Ren too."

"Yes, please," I said.

"Butter or Mayonnaise?" Gus asked.

"What?" Bailee asked.

"Butter or Mayonnaise?" Gus asked again.

"You can make a grilled cheese sandwich with mayonnaise?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, "Would you like me to make you one?"

She made a face as if she was trying to decide.

"Is it good?" she asked, "Does it taste different?"

"It's a little different," Benny stated, "But it's still good."

"I can make you one to try," Gus said, "And if you decide you hate it, I can make you one with butter."

Bailee looked a little surprised, "Please."

"Aright," he said.

I could hear the nervous joy in his response.

This was big.

I was happy for him

It seemed like Benny's mom wasn't treating him coldly.

For a little while, everything felt great.

It took me a bit to realize something was off.

It felt strange when I blinked.

I had been watching Benny and Gus get stuff out for the sandwiches.

The alcohol was hitting me pretty hard.

I could feel the effort it took to open my eyes after each blink.

Honestly, everything felt like it was moving faster than I was.

"Now to try it," Gus said.

He made it already?

I watched him walk the small plate over to Benny's mom.

She looked at it skeptically once it landed on the counter.

"It looks the same," she stated.

"Mom," Benny stated, "It's a grilled cheese sandwich."

After a few seconds of inspecting it, she held the sandwich in both hands and took a bite of it.

I think we were all staring at her, waiting to let us know what she thought.

"It's good," Bailee said.

I could hear Gus sigh.

He might have actually been holding his breath.

"There is barely a difference," Benny said, "But both are good."

"Butter is better," Michael stated.

"It really is," Gus agreed.

"Are you kidding?" Benny asked.

"Benny," Michael said, "You have no culture when it comes to food."

"Really?" she demanded.

"If we ask you what kind of food you like," Michael said, "You will literally eat anything."

"That's not true," Benny said flatly.

"Sorry, babe," Gus said, "You really do."

"I call bullshit," Benny said, "When?"

"There was that time we went to that taco truck," Michael said, "You ate half of the wrapper."

"Fuck you," Benny laughed, "It was fused with the shell."

Both boys just shook their heads.

"Ren," Benny said, "Help."

I wasn't sure how to help her.

I haven't noticed if she was a picky eater or not.

"You're not a picky eater," I said, "But I also haven't seen you eat anything weird."

"Thank you," Benny said.

"Ren hasn't watched you eat the cheese paper from a double cheeseburger before," Michael stated.

"What?" I asked.

She eats the cheese stuck to the wrapper?

"Ren," Gus to look me dead in the eye, "She takes a bite out of the wrapper."

Benny slapped his shoulder, "I do not."

"When she was little, she used to eat paper," Bailee smiled, "She would draw all sorts of things, and then she would eat them."

I turned to grin at Benny, "Did each piece taste different?"

She glared at me, "They did."

I couldn't help but laugh.

I couldn't picture small Benny eating paper.

"I grew out of that," Benny huffed.

"Not really," Michael said.

"Eat this," Gus took a grilled cheese from the pan and set it on the plate in front of Benny.

"I will," she said.

There was a short silence after.

I wasn't sure if it was just me or not, but I had a bad feeling.

Maybe it's the alcohol.

"Benny, dear?" Bailee asked.

"Yeah?"

Benny's mouth was full, and she clearly didn't give a shit.

"I was just asking how Michael and Ren got together before you came downstairs," she said.

Benny had to finish chewing the bite she took.

"I'm not really sure when it started," she said, "But they've been close since I introduced them."

"Really?" she asked, "You introduced them?"

"I did," Benny said.

"Because you thought they would hit it off?" Bailee asked, "Or as friends?"

I could tell by the expression on Benny's face that she didn't want to have this conversation.

"I had just met Ren," she said, "And she met Gus through the gate."

Bailee just stared at her daughter expectantly.

"Gus asked me to see a movie with me," Benny stated, "And I invited Ren."

"To a date Gus asked you to?"

"That's right," Benny stated, "I told Gus to invite Michael to make it a double date."

Bailee's attention went to Michael.

"You agreed to a double date?" she asked him.

"I did," he said flatly.

"So you knew something might happen?"

"No," Michael said, "Benny doesn't typically invite friends to hang out with us."

Bailee narrowed her eyes at him, "What makes this one different?"

"She was off-limits," Michael said, "Until she wasn't."

Bailee leaned back in her chair, "You don't have the best track record when it comes to relationships."

Wasn't this woman supposed to be an adult?

She helped raise him.

Why was she acting this way?

"I know," Michael said, "I'm difficult."

"The last girl you really liked marked you for life," Bailee stated, "Doesn't it bother you seeing that tree every day?"

Wait.

The tree was because of a girlfriend?

That massive, beautiful tree?

While the girl he loved got a teeny tiny bird?

"Has Ren seen it?" Bailee asked.

"I have," I said.

"Doesn't it bother you?" she asked.

I shook my head, "Why would it?"

I mean, I'm just hearing it for the first time right now.

I had no problem lying to Benny's mother.

Why didn't I see this coming?

She absolutely hates me.

"It's a beautiful tattoo," I stated.

"He got one for Benny too," Bailee said.

"I know," I said back, "He also has one for Gus."

Her eyes spoke before she did.

I knew exactly what was about to come out of her mouth.

"Does he have one for you?" she asked.

"Not yet," Michael said, "We haven't had the chance to talk about it that much."

Bailee looked a bit irritated.

"We're also going to get one for Ren," Benny stated, "On each of us."

Bailee looked even more irritated.

Would they really want that?

"Is that so?" she asked.

"It is," Michael stated, "Ren isn't like the other girls I've dated."

Her expression changed.

"Clearly," Bailee said, "She's heavier than what you're used to."

"Mom," Benny gasped.

I just turned away from her.

What did I do to her?

What horrible thing could I possibly have done for her to hate me?

"There is nothing wrong with her size," Michael said.

I could hear the edge to his tone.

Bailee didn't say anything.

"If you really need to know," Michael said, "She isn't a shallow cunt, and she genuinely gives a shit about people."

I glanced over at Bailee.

Her eyes went from me to Benny, then right back to Michael.

"I understand that you want things to work out how you want," Michael sighed, "But people don't always feel the way you want them to."

"That's what arranged marriages are for," Bailee stated, "You'll feel the way you should after a while."

What the fuck?

The room was silent.

I could feel the tension.

"Anyway," Bailee said, "I'm going to head to bed now."

I felt relieved to hear that.

"Goodnight," she said, "And thank you for the grilled cheese."

"You're welcome," Gus said, "Goodnight."

"Night," Benny said.

I watched Bailee walk away.

Once she was gone, I heard Benny sigh.

"What the fuck?" Michael asked.

"I'm so sorry, Ren," Benny said.

I wasn't even sure what to say.

Thankfully I was a little drunk.

It didn't hurt as badly as I thought it would.

The sound of glass scraping on the countertop averted my attention.

"I'm sorry, babe," Gus said.

It always made me feel a little better when they called me that.

I had no idea why.

Maybe because they were trying to tell me they loved me?

It was still hard getting used to people caring this much about me.

I felt my eyes sting a little as I stared at the sandwich Gus made me.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

I reached for the grilled cheese, and I tore it in half.

I handed half to Michael, and I took a bite of the other.

He looked a bit unsure, but he took the half I offered.

It was amazing.

I didn't realize how hungry I was.

I needed this.

The hot, crisp bread and the melted cheese.

I actively had to make sure I didn't moan as I took another bite.

"That good?" Michael asked.

"Huh?" I asked.

I met his gaze, and he grinned at me.

Was I making a face?

Oh shit.

"It's good," I said, "I didn't realize how hungry I was until I took a bite."

"Gus?" Michael asked, "Can you make Ren another one?"

"Sure thing, babe," Gus said.

Michael only sighed.

"You don't have to," I said, "I'm good with one."

"Nope," Gus said, "It's happening."

I smiled slightly at Michael.

No one really said much after that.

We just sat and ate.

There were some jokes here and there, but I didn't really pay attention.

It didn't take much longer until everyone decided they were going to head to bed.

I didn't want to move away from him, even if it was temporary.

It felt like his warmth was the only thing keeping me together.

"You two go ahead," Michael said, "I need to talk to Benny for a minute."

I stared at him for a few seconds before making my way to the stairs.

I wasn't even sure where I was going.

An arm went over my shoulders.

"Stairs are right here," Gus said.

He led me down the hallway.

He pulled me a little closer.

"I'm so sorry," he said, "I hoped that she would treat you better than she treats me."

I wanted to just nod and move on.

My tear ducts had other plans.

I blinked, and tears just streamed down my face.

I wasn't expecting those emotions to slam into me all at once.

How did he deal with it?

"Ren?" Gus asked.

I tried not to make a sound, but he pulled me into his arms.

"I know it won't be easy," he said, "But try not to let her words get to you."

His hand rubbing my back only made the tears flow more.

It felt a little like I couldn't breathe.

He was the only one that understood how this felt.

I wasn't even actually with Michael, and I was getting treated badly.

Gus is in love with Benny.

Her mother really doesn't like him.

I'm not sure if I could handle it.

Gus is a thousand times stronger than I am.

"Ren?"

I couldn't hear well, but it sounded like Benny.

Arms went around us, and I tried to calm down.

It was harder when I tried to force the tears to stop.

"I'm sorry," Benny said.

I couldn't even speak.

I was tired of being hated.

I want to be strong.

"Ren," Michael said, "Let's go lay down."

In that instant, there was nothing I wanted more.

I detached myself from Gus, and Benny moved back.

Both of them stared at me.

The worried expressions on their faces made me feel guilty.

"I'll be okay," I said, "I think the alcohol made me a little emotional."

"Alcohol?" Benny asked.

"Bailee was trying to find out how we got together," Michael stated, "And she probably figured that if she gets Ren drunk, she can find out whatever she wants."

Benny sighed, "What did Ren say?"

"She didn't say anything wrong," Michael stated, "We both just told her that we didn't know when it happened, that it just sort of did."

Benny's eyes went to me.

I nodded at her unspoken question.

"Okay," she said, "I think we all could use some sleep."

This is true.

"Hopefully, you both can get some sleep," Benny said, "And maybe tomorrow will be better."

"Wishful thinking," Michael said.

Gus pat the top of my head, "Goodnight, Ren."

"Goodnight," I said, "Sleep well. Both of you."

Benny gently nudged me.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't think she would say anything like that."

I shook my head.

It wasn't her. It was her mother.

She shouldn't have to apologize for something someone else did.

"Goodnight," Michael said, "We'll see you guys in the morning."

They both nodded.

It took a minute before we all headed to our rooms.

Once I laid eyes on the bed, I felt exhausted.

Michael shut the door once we were both inside.

"Ren?"

I turned to look at him.

His hand went to the side of my neck. His thumb gently rubbed my cheek.

"I don't even know what to say," he admitted.

I shook my head.

"Say something," he whispered.

"I'm tired," I said.

I felt the lump in my throat.

The sweet sound of his voice didn't help when I was already upset.

His hand went to the back of my neck before pulling me closer.

I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but I felt his arm across his stomach.

I've hurt him enough.

"Ren?"

I pulled away, and I looked up at him.

"We should sleep," I said.

He made a face.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," I said, "Hopefully tomorrow is better."

He only nodded.

I moved around the bed so that I could lay down.

I didn't have the energy to change my clothes.

"You aren't going to ask?" he asked.

My head turned on the pillow to look at him.

He didn't move from where he stood.

"Ask what?"

"The tree," he said, "I thought you'd be mad."

Why would I be mad?

"You told me about it already," I stated.

His brows furrowed. He looked confused.

"When I asked you about it before," I said, "You said you didn't talk to them anymore."

He nodded slowly.

"Is there more I need to know?"

He glanced down before fiddling with the pouch on his hoodie.

"I thought you would have some questions," he said, "That's all."

"Questions like?" I asked.

"How serious it was."

It felt like a lump of hot coal fell into my stomach.

"Was it?" I asked.

He glanced up at me quickly before looking back down.

It was then.

I sat up before sighing.

"She used me," he said flatly, "I thought maybe she was the one."

More than serious then.

End game serious.

"What happened?" I asked.

I made it a point to turn a bit to face him.

He seemed awkward to finally be asked something.

He stood there for a minute before removing the pink hoodie.

Once it was off, and he tossed it on top of his bag, he met my gaze.

"Benny and her were really good friends," he said, "But it was an act. She only spoke to Benny to get to me."

I was already irritated.

"She heard I was a broken boy with a lot of money," he said, "Looking back, I should have seen the red flags. No one always agrees with you or wants the things you want."

Maybe talking about this now wasn't the best idea.

"After a little while, I realized that she was treating Benny and Gus like shit," he said, "And telling everybody anything I ever told her in confidence."

I wasn't even sure what to say.

"She always used to ask about my scars," he stated, "Thank fuck I never told her about any of them."

I know more than he thinks I do.

I would never hurt him like that.

"She's the main reason I don't like people touching me," he stated, "Any mark she saw on my body, she'd put her hand over it and ask me a thousand times how it got there."

I had the feeling I'd enjoy punching this girl in the face if I ever met her.

"Then she'd get mad and always make it my fault," he said, "When I finally called her out on her bullshit…."

He stopped.

"Michael?"

He made a face. I could see the hurt in his eyes.

"She told me I was broken beyond repair," he said quietly, "And made sure to remind me how deformed I was."

I was angry.

It was a spiteful thing to do on her part.

I know how sweet he is when he cares about you.

I know how good it feels to be in his arms.

I know how phenomenal it is to be friends with him.

"She told me later that she chose a tattoo so big to cover as much of my scarred skin as possible," he said.

It made me feel shitty for admiring the tree on his body.

"Then, here's the fucking kicker," he laughed, "She said she marked me. That every time I look in the mirror, I would think of her."

I met his eyes again.

He still looked hurt.

"Do you?" I barely managed to ask.

"Do I what?" he asked.

Shit.

I didn't want to ask, but I wanted to know.

"Do you think of her every time you see it?" I asked.

He shook his head, "Jokes on her. I like my fucking tree."

That was surprising to hear.

"I know you like it too," he said.

It wasn't really that it liked it.

"I like it on you," I admitted.

"More reason to not think about her," he said.

Really?

Was it honestly that simple?

Then the next question entered my brain.

I frowned.

"What is it?" he asked.

I had to look away from him.

"Is it because of her that you treat women the way you do?"

"Like they all want something from me?" he asked.

I glanced over at him before nodding.

"She's part of it," he sighed, "But it's become a pattern."

"How?" I asked.

"Look at me," he gestured at himself with his good hand, "I attract a certain kind of woman."

If that's really true, then what am I?

I think he realized I wasn't sure what to say to that.

"You aren't like them," he said.

If I really thought about it, that wasn't true.

In more ways than one, I was using him too.

Not to hurt him. Never.

I was dependent on him.

I was dependent on all three of them.

"What if I am?" I asked.

His head cocked tiredly to the side, "Don't stress yourself out with that."

"What?"

"Everything I've ever done or given to you was offered," he said, "You didn't ask."

I felt that damn lump in my throat again.

"Benny and Gus both adore you," he said, "You have nothing to worry about."

Fuck.

This boy.

I'm not sure if my heart can take it.

"Okay," I said, "I won't worry about any of it."

He nodded.

"Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we sleep now?" I asked.

A wide smile formed on his face, "Yeah."

I watched as he sat on the bed and then found a comfortable position to lie in.

He was flat on his back.

He barely laid down, and his eyes were already shut.

"Thank you for telling me," I said.

I know it wasn't easy for him.

He turned his head, and his dark blue eyes locked on me.

"Communication," he said, "As long as we talk to each other honestly, we'll be okay."

It felt a little heavy.

He really trusted me that much?

I had no reason to lie to him.

Not yet.

I also can't tell him that I already love him.

"Thank you," I said again, "For trusting me."

He smiled just a bit before stretching.

Once he stilled, I heard him mumble something.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Come lay down," he said.

He held his arm out for me.

There's no way I wasn't going to snuggle up with him.

I moved closer and rested my head on his chest.

The rest of my body nestled in against him.

There was no space between us.

"Thank you," Michael said softly, "For trusting me."

I wrapped my arm around his waist and tried my best not to smile.

It was hard to imagine that such a lousy night would end like this.

I glanced up at him.

I could only see his neck and his bandaged chin from this angle.

I wanted to stare at his face.

That would make me a creep, so I'm not actually going to do that.

"Sleep," he said.

He might have been half asleep because his breathing evened.

I think he was fighting it, but the drowsiness won.

I picked my head up to look at him one more time before trying to sleep.

Sure, he was damaged.

He is scarred, not just physically.

It doesn't change the fact that he is beautiful.

He took in a breath before grumbling.

"Stop staring at me."

I laid my head down on his chest again, grinning until my cheeks hurt.

Why was I so awake now?

I looked down at the sling with his arm in it.

My mind couldn't stop all the thoughts that started to roll through.

The story about the Mermaid came back, and I couldn't help the feelings that overwhelmed me.

If I were a Mermaid, I would give my wish to him. Even if it meant that I would vanish.

Because right now, the only thing in the world I could think to wish for would be him.