16. Kennedy

I havea bird’s eye view of Shane as he works the room of the party. He’s taller than most of the people down there and dominates the space like he’s somebody famous.

I’m sitting high on the staircase, sipping a Coca-Cola, as I watch people who are clearly his friends flock to him. He has brief conversations with each person, making them at least smile and some of them laugh, but then always checks to see if I’m still sitting where he left me.

I offer a small head nod to reassure him that I’m fine when, in fact, I’m not. But a deal is a deal, and thanks to Shane, I had a quiet Thanksgiving with my father, his sister (Auntie Cynthia), and two of my cousins. Later, I had dessert at my mom’s house with her and her best friend, Miss Janine. It wasn’t what I was used to, but it wasn’t terrible, and at least I spent my Thanksgiving holiday with family whom I love and not Shane and his seductress of a mother.

After hugging a very pretty girl with perfect skin and long, honey-blonde braids to her ass, Shane says hello to the people sitting below me and takes a seat next to me on the step.

“You’re being a little antisocial sitting over here by yourself.”

“I don’t know any of these people, Shane.”

“I would introduce you if you’d let me.”

“I’m fine sitting here and watching you work your magic.”

“I can get you a beer or something,” he offers. “All you’re drinking is that Coke?”

“I’m good.”

“When we met, I watched you toss back drink tequila shots at four different bars.”

“You obviously weren”t paying that close attention.”

“Are you kidding?” He looks at me like I’ve said something ridiculous. “When you”re around, I’m always paying attention.”

“That’s a very Shane thing to say, but while you were the one who ordered the shots at The Pike, I was the drink runner for my friends for the rest of the night.”

“And, so?” he leans closer, seemingly interested in where my story is going. “What’s your point?”

“At the next few stops, I had the bartenders pour me mostly water shots.”

“What?” he chuckles. “I’ve never heard of that. What’s the point?”

“It”s a trick I learned in high school.”

“I think the trick was on you. You pretended to get drunk when everyone else was actually drunk? Explain yourself. How’s that any fun?”

“I know my limit, and I don’t drink past it. I don”t like feeling out of control.”

“Control issues, huh? How could I have possibly missed that,” he says sarcastically. “So what happened to make you this guarded?” he asks earnestly. “There’s a story there. There must be.”

“There’s no story,” I say, avoiding his eyes.

“Kennedy, are we friends or not?”

I’m quickly learning that when Shane calls me by my name and does not use the term beautiful or some other random nickname, I know he’s being serious.

“Yeah, or I mean I don”t know. It’s weird now.”

“I’ll admit it’s a little weird between us now, but it doesn”t always have to be. We”re not our parents. We can have our own relationship apart from theirs.”

A couple who are both obviously drunk swagger up the steps and try to move past us. It’s a tight squeeze on the staircase, so I try leaning to the side to give them room. The couple sways and almost falls into us.

“Whoa there. Watch yourself,” Shane warns them as he wraps a protective arm around my shoulders.

“Sorry,” the girl smiles with glassy eyes. The guy doesn’t say anything and just continues with his wobbly ascension.

I consider what Shane and I were discussing before we were interrupted. “I’m not your sister,” I blurt out nervously. “I could never be your sister.”

“Agreed,” he smiles.

“I just…I need to make sure you understand that no matter what happens between our parents, I will never consider you family.”

“Uh, that sounded a little mean,” he smirks.

“You know what I meant.”

“No, I get it. You could never be a sister to me. Siblings don”t feel the way we do.”

“What do you mean? Feel like what?” I challenge as I sink even further into the comfort of his protective hold on me.

“If I have to explain it to you, you”re not drinking just a Coke. There must be some Jack Daniels in there.”

“It’s hot,” I say, wiggling from under him.

“Maybe take off your jacket?”

“Or you could take off your arm. What will your friends think?”

“Fine,” he huffs.

I shimmy out of my leather jacket and place it on my lap. The party music seems to grow louder as more people file into the house, and it reminds me of graduation last year, which, in part, is not a great memory.

“Look at me, Kennedy.”

I turn my head back around.

“If you want to leave, we can leave. I asked you to come tonight thinking we’d get to know each other in a different atmosphere, but I can tell you’re uncomfortable.”

“I shouldn’t have come. You’re here to hang with your friends and to have a good time, not to babysit me. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I wanted you to come. If you’re ready, just let me say my goodbyes to my friends, and we can go.”

I stare contemplatively at him for a moment.

My heart wavering between the desire to trust him and run from him.

“What are you doing here, Shane?”

“Just trying to get to know my friend Kennedy a little better.”

“No, seriously, why are you being so nice to me?”

“This is nice? You must not have many friends,” he jokes, but I don”t laugh.

“Actually, I don”t have a lot of friends, at least not anymore.”

“Because you scare everyone shitless?” he jibes.

“Because I got someone hurt back in high school.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I tell him, realizing this isn’t a conversation to have at a party.

“You said it because you needed someone to hear it, so tell me what happened.”

“Excuse me,” a mammoth-sized guy says to us. He definitely needs more room to pass by us than we’re giving him. “Can you two move over or something?”

Without a word of warning, Shane lifts me by the waist and sits me on his lap, giving the guy a wider berth.

“Thanks.”

Once the guy passes, I attempt to move back into my place on the staircase, but Shane stops me. “Stay here for a minute.”

“Shane–”

“Just in case some other people need to pass.”

I know that’s a lie, but I’m fine pretending if it means I can sit in his arms for just a moment longer and forget that our worlds aren’t colliding in the most unfair way imaginable.

“Continue your story,” he encourages.

“I went to a graduation party for someone from another high school. I went alone because most of my friends had other plans. It was a busy time of the year.”

“Sure, I get it.”

“That was my first mistake. I knew some of the people there but not a lot. I drank, I danced, and totally let my guard down, drawing the attention of a guy who was notoriously not a very nice person.”

I take a beat, reliving those early moments at the party.

“Can you keep going, or do you want to stop?” Shane asks.

“I tried avoiding him,” I continue. “But I couldn’t get rid of him. He was handsy and intimidating.”

“Did he hurt you?” Shane asks through gritted teeth as if he wants to reach back in time and wring the guy’s neck.

“No, nothing like that, but someone at the party must have called John to come help me.”

“John?”

“My boyfriend at the time.” Tears start to swell in my eyes. I wipe them with the back of my hand, and Shane squeezes my waist a bit tighter. “John stormed inside the party looking for me and ended up in a fight with the asshole.”

“Was it bad?”

“You fight a lot, right?”

“I’ve had my share.”

“You need to be careful then because you never know when one could go sideways.”

“How did it go sideways?”

“The asshole ended up hurting John really badly. Completely smashed his knee and his head in.”

“Is he…okay now?”

“He was in the hospital for two weeks and has been in physical therapy ever since.”

“Damn.”

“His life was totally upended. He was supposed to go to the University of Miami in the fall, but the worst part is that he’ll never have full use of his leg and may have to walk with a cane for the rest of his life.”

Shane turns me a few degrees in his lap, my back against the staircase’s banister, and looks at me steadily. “I’m sorry, Kennedy. That’s a terrible story that I’m sure is weighing heavy on your heart. Do you still talk to John?”

“He never wants to talk to me again.”

“Why do you say that? That wasn’t your fault.”

“I just told you the whole story, Shane.”

“And?”

“I broke all my rules. I went there alone. I drank past my limit. And if it weren’t for me, John wouldn’t be permanently disfigured.”

“I bet that’s not how he feels at all.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. His parents filed a civil suit against the guy and named me as a co-defendant.”

“And what did John say?”

“He blamed me too.”

“Well, shit. What an asshole.”

“My parents were livid with me. They were going through their divorce and didn’t want to go through a long court battle, so they settled with the guy’s family. My father had to sell one of his franchises to pay.”

“Fuck, Kennedy. That’s some bullshit. You did nothing wrong. That sounds like they knew your father had some money and saw a payday.”

“John’s parents didn’t have that type of money. I think they had to file for bankruptcy or something but he never called me again.”

“Boys are dumb, and sometimes we get into situations that are over our heads. His parents probably made him cut off all ties with you.”

“I guess but I’m not surprised.”

“Hey, maybe you dodged a bullet. John doesn’t sound very bright. He should have just pulled you out of the party and not confronted the guy. Not alone anyway.”

“You shouldn’t blame the victim.”

“And neither should you. You were a victim, too. The only victim if you ask me.”

“Can we go now?” I ask, not trying to have an ugly cry in the middle of his friend’s party. This is so unlike me. Avoidance is my coping strategy of choice. I haven’t talked about John with anyone other than my therapist since it happened, and here I am, spilling my guts at the worst time possible.

“Absolutely.”

We stand up, and Shane does something unexpected; he takes my hand and leads me down the stairs. It’s a small gesture that holds tremendous power over me. Even when I was dating John, holding hands wasn’t something we ever did. John wasn’t the romantic type. It feels both possessive and comforting at the same time.

I like it.

And that’s dangerous.