Learning How to Swim

“Beckham didn’t help me at all, and my mother knew that. She said that I needed more help and attention than I was getting, so she sent me to a rehabilitation clinic in Virginia. I missed the last half of my sophomore year. Everyone thought I was visiting my grandmother in Wisconsin for a bit, but no one really cared enough to see if it was true.”

Steven couldn’t look me in the eye for some reason, but that was probably a good thing. Our whole relationship had been based on lies, and I was still trying to cope with that heart-wrenching fact even as we sat on his bed.

“I know what it’s like to fall into the wrong crowd, Valentine,” he murmured softly, staring at his hands as they lay motionless in his lap. “I had convinced myself that they were great. I almost went to jail for attempted murder, but my buddy got caught instead of me. He was sent to rehab for substance abuse.”

“So you did drugs and all that?” I asked quietly, looking at the needle marks in my own arms.

“Yeah. Cocaine, meth, weed, dope, hookah—everything. My drug of choice had always been heroin, though. Sometimes snorting was okay, but it only takes seconds to reach the brain when you use a needle, and the high is so euphoric…” He coughed, biting his lip. “Anyway, it was easy enough to get. And my mom always had vodka around the house, so she wouldn’t notice a few missing sips, right? Well, she did. She’s a smart woman, I’ll give her that.” He ran a hand through his Mohawk mishap. “I picked up this baby at the rehab clinic. It seemed like a better way of coping than cutting my skin or shooting up opium, but I guess I couldn’t kick that habit entirely. Well, I had for a while until… Well, I already told you that you broke my heart.”

I bit down tears. I hadn’t realized what I had put him through. “I made you?” I forced out, not wanting that to be true.

He nodded. “You did, but don’t feel bad. When I met you and started talking to you, well, I thought I didn’t need the meds anymore. But rapid cycling catches up with you. Trust me on that. It’s not all your fault—it’s mine.”

I glanced up at him, but I just couldn’t meet his gaze. I settled on staring at the scar from his lip to the middle of his cheek. My sister had certainly gotten him good, that was for sure. He smiled slightly, and I looked up.

“I wanted to tell you. I actually slipped up once when I told you that Janice hated seeing me like that. I hadn’t wanted to make a spectacle of it, but you hadn’t really noticed anyway. I was afraid to tell you, you know? You’re the only friend I’ve had in quite some time (certainly the only good influence).” I nearly jumped when his hand fell on mine. “Well, I hope we’re friends anyway.”

“Steven, I—”

“I understand if you’re still mad,” he cut me off, his cold hand on mine feeling oddly pleasant. “I would be, too. I just hope you’ll give me another chance.”

“Are you going to give me another chance?” I asked him softly, ignoring the phone that was vibrating in my pocket. A quick glance at the clock proved that it was well past time for me to be home. It was nearly eleven at night.

“I suppose I should come clean. I never gave up on you,” he murmured, leaning down and pressing his forehead to mine, a questioning look in his eyes. “Inappropriate?”

“I don’t keep a list.”

“I wish I didn’t,” he admitted quietly. A silence fell around us as the crickets outside chirped a tune to take away any awkwardness that could have formed.

“Me, too.”

I looked up into his hazel eyes, smiling softly as I glanced down to his perfectly flawed lips. As if reading my mind, he sighed.

“I never claimed to be perfect,” he reminded me. That only made me smile even more.

“We all have flaws. The great thing is finding someone whose flaws you love.”

“Neither did I,” I breathed softly, grabbing Steven’s hands tightly.

The first time it’d happened was in my parents’ car. He had told me that he was impatient, and that was indeed a major flaw of his.

But it was also one of mine.

Hoping for the best, I leaned forward. He caressed my lips with his own, pulling his hands out of mine to place them softly on my hips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, shifting slightly and allowing him to hold me closer as he kissed me unhurriedly, as if we had all the time in the world. As far as I was concerned we did.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he mumbled against my lips, opening his eyes to look into mine softly. I tried to talk, but he kissed me again, as if begging me to let him speak. “But…” He kissed me again. “I think…” And again. “I love you.” I pulled back and he awkwardly pulled his hands back to himself.

“Steven, I love you, too,” I murmured, kissing him gently on the cheek. “But I should go home before my mother has a heart attack.”

“You’re right.” He helped me stand, opening the door for me. “I’ll walk with you.”