Before & After You Read online

  “We made some terrible, irreversible choices, and not a day goes by that I don’t feel partially to blame for what happened to your mother. And to you.” His eyes glistened with genuine emotion as he looked at me, as we sat across the table from each other and held the first conversation we’d had in seventeen years.

  Way to dive right in, Jess. But was there an easier way to do this? I didn’t think there was.

  “I didn’t know about you, Jessica,” he said carefully. “Not until the day she passed away.” He shook his head. “…I didn’t know.”

  I believed him. I could see it in his eyes, in the hurt that bled through them. I could feel it in the way he grasped my hand and held onto it firmly, unwilling to let go.

  And if I’d had any tears left to cry that day, I know I would have.

  Forty-nine Before

  “WE NEED TO get a dress stat,” Jaymes said, plopping down next to me in the grassy quad after stealing a bite of my burrito.

  I rolled my eyes, pulling said burrito out of reach. “For what?” With Jaymes, who knew what he was about to say. I could imagine any number of things coming out of his mouth next: So we can strap it on a mannequin and throw it in the ocean and watch people panic.

  For me, duh…I’m going to wear it to church this Sunday and ask to be baptized. See how many people freak and start praying for me.

  A fishing net. A floatation device. A parachute.

  Any of these things would have been fathomable in his mind, I’m sure, but instead, he said, “The dress is for you. We’re going to prom.” He looked so sure of himself—and that statement—that it made me laugh.

  “Ha. Funny. No we’re not,” I countered, shaking my head and effectively wiping the smug grin from his face.

  “Aww, don’t be like that, babe.” He turned me to face him, the knees of our crossed legs touching. “Picture it.” He swept his palm through the air between us before reaching down and clasping his hands around my knees. “Booze. Grinding up on each other.” He pulled me closer with a wicked grin. “You know, the superficial high-school right-of-passage we can’t allow ourselves to miss.”

  I honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking. Especially when he looked at me like he was dead serious. But his dark eyes still twinkled with mischief.

  I shoved his arm and laughed once under my breath. “Not that I think you’re serious…But I’m okay with missing out. Honestly. Besides, there’s always next year if I change my mind.”

  “Yeah, for you!” he shouted with an insufferable smile. “And I’m fucking serious. I won’t let you rob me of this, Jess. These are my memories you’re messing with, and besides, you’re my girlfriend.” He shrugged. “You’re obligated. The second you agreed to be my girlfriend, you agreed to this, so you might as well give in to me now.”

  “You know, I don’t think I ever actually agreed to be your g—”

  He pressed his finger up against my mouth. “Shh… Let’s not let the technicalities get the best of us.”

  I almost choked on my bite of burrito. “You are so stupid.”

  “Stuuuupid, and going to prom with my girlfriend?”

  I could’ve drawn out the ridiculous conversation I’d found myself in, but I mean…what the hell? “Sure, why not.” I said, giving in to that incredulous smirk of his. I was sure he’d be over the idea by next week anyway. “But we’re meeting there,” I added. “And we’re not doing the whole corsage, flower-pin crap thing either.”

  He scoffed and pretended to pout about it for a second, before agreeing with a resigned, “Fine.”

  “‘Fine,’ what? What are you pouting about now?” Greyson asked with a chuckle, sitting down in front of us. “Hey, Jess,” he quickly added before focusing his attention back on Jaymes again—cool, casual.

  “Nah, no more pouting,” Jaymes responded, throwing his arm over my shoulders. “Jess and I are going to prom.”

  “Ah.” Greyson nodded. His smile was a little forced, but he was genuinely trying. I could give him that much at least. “What’s that you’re drawing?” He pointed at my forgotten notebook sitting behind me. I don’t know how the hell I’d left it out for anyone to see without realizing it.

  I slapped it shut. “Nothing,” I quickly answered. A little too quick.

  Jaymes and Greyson both wore matching expressions of suspicion.

  “None of your business, okay?” I snapped at both of them, and then back-pedaled with a, “It’s nothing, just a random sketch.” I forced a smile, hoping they’d back off. The sketch of Greyson’s eyes burned a hole through my notebook and into my hands.

  Had he seen what I’d drawn? Or worse, had the pages of my sketchbook opened up to something else I’d drawn? I stole a quick glance at him. Surely, I’d be able to tell if he had…right?

  Jaymes shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve got to head out early. My mom needs some help trashing our old couch.”

  Aw, I kind of love that couch, I thought absentmindedly, my mind still stuck on my drawings, before Jaymes smacked a kiss on my lips and stood. “See you guys later.”

  Greyson diverted his attention elsewhere, his eyes scanning the library building and the rest of the quad.

  We didn’t say anything for more than a few minutes. It was the first time any silence between us felt off. Filled with something unspoken, or with too many things spoken.

  He was focused on everything but me, but I still found myself focused on him. I studied his eyes, the way they felt contemplative, avoiding. I studied the sharp line of his jaw, the way it smoothed out and disappeared into his chin, curving up towards a pouty mouth of two full lips.

  Lips I’d felt on mine; lips I had tasted. I swallowed thickly, diverting my own attention elsewhere.

  “So, prom, huh?” Greyson asked after another minute or so, drawing my eyes right back to his.

  And it was weird, this place we’d found ourselves in. We’d seen so much of each other, and yet…here we were, pretending to be nothing more than friends. If that’s what we even were at this point. I honestly didn’t know, but something between us felt forced. Forced to be more than or less than what we were, I wasn’t sure.

  “Prom…yeah, I guess so,” I finally answered him.

  But then he turned towards me, facing me dead-on, and gave me one of his most genuine, Greyson-trademarked, tilted smiles. “I hope you’ll save a dance for me, then,” he said, and the words—all of them—got stuck in my throat, my lungs completely forgetting how to give and receive air properly.

  It didn’t really matter, though, because Greyson stood up and walked away before I could say anything back anyway.

  And yeah, that entire last thirty minutes of my life had given me a severe case of whiplash.

  I guess I was going to prom…

  …with one boy when I still desperately wanted to be with the other.

  Fifty Before

  EXCEPT THAT…I showed up on prom night—in a stupid, awesome black dress that tied between my shoulder blades—and neither of them were there. I’d curled my short hair into waves, had braided two dark chunks of it along the crown of my head. I had on red freaking lipstick. And neither of them were there. I couldn’t spot Sara anywhere in the crowd yet, either.

  You probably deserve it. Karma, much? I mentally flipped off my own subconscious.

  I waited another half-hour in an unlit corner of our decorated multipurpose room, feeling like a full-blown idiot as I watched everyone laughing and dancing with each other, before deciding to storm off and punch Jaymes in the face as soon as I saw him.

  His house was fifteen minutes away—walking distance. It was totally doable. Especially since I’d opted for a pair of high-top chucks instead of heels.

  I was lost in my one-track mind: Walk, find Jaymes, PUNCH HIM.

  I mean, I didn’t even want to go to prom in the first place! I knew I should’ve stuck to my damn “no” when he’d asked me to go.

  I felt the rumble of Lady’s engine cut into my thoughts as much as I heard
it.

  “Jess?” Greyson called.

  I kept walking.

  “Jess!”

  Yep, still walking. I was mortified. About all of it. Showing up, putting as much effort into dressing up as I had, Greyson catching me fuming on the side of the road, over Jaymes.

  “Jess!” he yelled louder.

  I stopped and turned towards him, my hands drowning in the lace pockets of my short dress. That’s right, my dress had pockets. Rad, right? I was going to punch Jaymes in the face so fucking hard.

  “What?!” I shouted at Greyson with more force than necessary.

  “Why are you walking away from prom?”

  “Because I’m going to find Jaymes and punch him in the face!”

  He tried to hide his smile behind his fist, but I could see it anyway.

  I started walking again.

  “Get in, Jess,” he called out to me. I wanted to be stubborn and refuse to give in, but I was afraid my anger would roll into attempted-murder status by the time I finally got to Jaymes.

  So, I got in and slammed Lady’s door shut behind me. I didn’t miss the way Greyson cringed a little at that.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. “But can you please shove your fancy shoe into the floor and get us to Jaymes’ stat?”

  He laughed quietly. More a smile than a laugh, really. “Sure, Jess. You got it.”

  I’d been so lost in wanting punch Jaymes in the face that Greyson in a tux had completely slipped my attention. Until now, of course.

  And… Holy shit.

  Holy.

  Freaking.

  Shit.

  What in the actual fuck? And I’d thought Greyson in casual clothes left me breathless? I knew nothing about the way my airways could constrict until this moment right here. Nothing.

  His long black pants were fitted, hugging his thighs; the sleeves of his white dress shirt kissed the tips of his wrist bones; and his maroon coat, with a sleek, thin black collar, and his slicked back hair…fit in perfectly with Lady’s timeless class.

  I wasn’t even going to get started on the black bowtie that hugged his throat…

  “You look beautiful,” he stole the words straight from my mouth.

  I looked into the sea of his green eyes, and he smiled.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I said, and took my first full breath of air in what felt like minutes. I was smiling, too.

  “So, why are we pounding Jaymes’ face in?” he asked.

  I looked out the window. We’d already pulled up to his house. When did that happen? “Because he stood me up when I didn’t want to go to prom in the first place.”

  He nodded, amused. “Understandable.”

  I opened the door. “Thank you for the ride.”

  “You’re welcome. Should I wait for you?”

  I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. You’re already late. Go ahead and go.” Go be with whoever you dressed that heartbreakingly beautiful for.

  Even after everything, a small bit of jealousy stirred inside me.

  It still felt like he was supposed to be mine.

  “See ya, Grey.” I closed the door, and he waved. Most of my anger had already dissipated, but I was still going to march into that house and give Jaymes a piece of my mind.

  Fifty-one Before

  WHEN I WALKED into his house and turned the corner into his hallway, though, I was assaulted by a sight I did not expect to see:

  Jaymes and Sara. Up against the wall. Pants swimming around his ankles; pink, puffy dress lifted up to her waist as he thrusted into her.

  Over, and over, and over again.

  I cleared my throat, deciding right then and there that this wasn’t going to be one of those scenes where I quietly snuck away and dwelled alone in my own hurt.

  No. I wasn’t that kind of girl.

  Anger simmered in my veins, my fists aching for physical contact. I charged at them, tearing down the hall. Naked or not, I was going to beat the shit out of whichever one of them I could get my hands on first.

  I didn’t care that my feelings for Jaymes didn’t run very deep. He was still my boyfriend. And my friend, or so I’d thought. I thought they both were. But this? This bullshit? This was exactly how much they cared about me, how much they respected me and valued my friendship.

  Before I could make it even halfway towards their startled expressions, though, Greyson hauled me up and into his arms.

  “Are you kidding me?!” I screamed. At the two half-naked traitors in front of me, and the boy behind me with a firm grip around my waist.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” Jaymes said stupidly, quickly pulling himself together. Seriously, what kind of idiot did he take me for?

  “Oh, please. It’s exactly what it looked like,” Sara said with a level of calm and disdain that stunted my speech for more than a few seconds. She smoothed her dress down. “How long was he supposed to wait for you to spread your legs, Jess?” She laughed, the Sara I thought I knew long gone.

  I fought to break free of Greyson’s arms. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I spat at her.

  “You don’t even like him!” she screamed. “But I do! I always have; you’re just too wrapped up in your own stupid drama show to see it!”

  Wow. I almost laughed. Almost.

  So much for two people I thought were my friends.

  It didn’t even hurt my feelings, really. I expected these kinds of things from people. That wasn’t anything new—the lies, the deceit, how fake they were. The world was sprinkled with bullshitters like them. So, no, I wasn’t angry or upset with them. I was pissed at myself. Because I thought that after everything I’d been through, my bullshit-o-meter was a hell of a lot fucking better than that.

  “You two can have each other.” I smiled sardonically. “I’m happy for you both, really. You can go rot in hell together.” I lunged forward. Just one punch. One punch would feel so damn good. Or a slap, a scratch. Anything.

  But Greyson pulled me back and hauled me outside where I proceeded to kick and fight and push against him.

  I worked my way out of his arms and shoved him away. “Don’t touch me,” I said, taking my anger out on him since he’d dragged me away from the two who actually deserved it.

  “I get it, Jess. I do. But I didn’t do this to you.” Didn’t you, though? my heart whispered. “Get in the car. Please. I’ll drive you home, okay?” he pleaded.

  And just like that, the fight fled from me, bleeding from my fingertips as I tried to grasp onto what was left of it. It was useless. I walked over to his car and got in, shutting the door and slanting my body towards the window.

  Greyson slipped into his seat and turned the engine over, pulling away from Jaymes’ house.

  I watched the cracks in the sidewalks shift from dark lines to rhythmic shadows flitting past the faster we drove.

  “Why’d you stay?” I eventually asked him.

  “Honestly?” he said. “I had a feeling things might go that way.”

  I turned to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Did he know something I didn’t this entire time? Had he been keeping Jaymes’ dirty little secret behind my back?

  “Jaymes is Jaymes,” he shrugged. “So I can’t say I’m surprised.” Touché, I thought, and let out a breath. “He’s an idiot, though. The fact that he can’t see what he has right in front of his face.” He shook his head. “He’s a fucking idiot.”

  I felt like turning his words around on him, telling him he was an idiot, too. Because if he could see what was right in front of his face? He’d see that he had me, so much more than Jaymes ever had.

  “And what is that, exactly?” I asked him instead.

  He looked at me questioningly.

  “What is it that he has?” I elaborated.

  He smiled a little. The right side of his lips, anyway. “I know what you’re doing, Jess. Don’t. Please.”

  I forced a smile back. “Right,” I said, and we left the conversation at that.

 
; Fifty-two Before

  WE DIDN’T TALK much after that, Greyson and me.

  And I didn’t really know why, except that sometimes it hurt just to look at him. The one thing in this world I’d desperately wanted but would never have. Yet another prayer gone unanswered.

  There wasn’t any animosity between us, though. We simply kept our distance. Smiling when we caught eyes or waving when we passed in the hallways. It was our acceptance, I think, that this was where our lives were meant to fork apart.

  But still…it hurt.

  Every time I looked at him. Every time I thought about him. Every minute of every day, every second I spent breathing, the thought of him leaving crushed me in a way I didn’t know how to come back from.

  I didn’t understand it. Not really.

  So I avoided it—avoided him. Just like he’d been avoiding me. Because if we severed most of our ties now, it wouldn’t hurt as much later, right?

  I could only hope.

  So, I focused on school, on painting, instead. I focused on the therapy I’d only recently started but could already tell was going to help me. I focused on everything but the fact that Greyson was avoiding it, too: the tiny granules of sand falling through the hourglass, counting down the last days, hours, minutes, seconds we had left before we’d have to say goodbye.

  Fifty-three After

  BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, goes my heart. A steady pulse in my throat; a whooshing in my ears. Too fast to track the beats, to differentiate one from the next. Just a steady, continual thundering that reverberates through my entire body.

  He gave me no time, no time at all, to linger on the relief of these revelations before slamming a new one down on me. The most insane one. The most important one. “There’s only one woman I’ve been interested in connecting with for the past eight years, and I think we both know that’s you.” No questions about it. Intentions clearly drawn.

  I swallow thickly. Our eyes are still locked together, emotions running high. So high I can’t tell which are his and which are mine as we gaze deep into each other’s eyes, into what feels like our souls. I think we share them all. Relief, curiosity, fondness, yearning.