Smile At Secrets
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“I’m not afraid of you,” I said, my voice hoarse. “And if it’s any consolation to you, I don’t think your father is either.”
He didn’t respond immediately—he was too busy watching me with his dark eyes and wondering what I meant by that. His gaze went from my face down to the floor in front of him where he’d dropped his shoes before we left the house this morning. He picked them up again, slipped one on each foot, then stood there for a moment longer as though waiting for something else.
Finally, when he still hadn’t moved, I asked, “What are you doing?”
His lips twitched into another half-smile. “You should be more careful about who you tell things like that to.”
“Why? Because they might use it against us later?”
A slow smile spread across his face as he nodded slowly. “Yes, exactly.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “So why did you come here today instead of just going straight home after school?”
The smile faded from his mouth, replaced by an expression so serious it made me feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t until I saw the look in those dark eyes that I realized how much older he looked than usual. In fact, I had no idea when or even if he ever smiled normally anymore.
It was strange seeing him like this, but I couldn’t help feeling drawn toward him all over again. There were times when I felt like maybe I could understand him better now than I used to. Maybe because he seemed less guarded around me these days. Or perhaps because I was finally starting to see past the surface and get to know the real person underneath.
Or maybe it was simply because I wanted to.
Whatever the reason, I found myself wanting to stand close to him. To lean my shoulder against his and let him hold me. As long as I kept telling myself that it wouldn’t lead anywhere, I knew I would never have anything more to worry about.
But I also knew that if I gave in to my desires right now, I’d only end up hurting him. And I hated the thought of doing that to someone as good and kindhearted as him.
With a sigh, I stepped backward away from him. “Well, I guess I’ll go back inside.”
He watched me silently for several seconds, then sighed heavily. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something since yesterday afternoon,” he said quietly once I turned around. “But I haven’t gotten the chance yet. Do you mind if I talk to you about it now?”
My heart began pounding in my chest as I took a step closer to him. “Of course not. What do you want to ask me?”
His gaze flickered down to my arm. Then he lifted his hand and ran his fingers along the sleeve of my jacket. When he reached my elbow, he paused for a second, looking conflicted. Eventually, though, he traced his fingertips lightly across the skin of my forearm, stopping just short of the tattoo.
For some reason, the way he touched me sent shivers through my entire body. They traveled down both arms, making their way to my stomach and lower back. The sensation caused my nipples to harden, and my breath hitched in my throat.
At least he didn’t notice.
After hesitating for a few moments, he brought his hand up to my wrist and gently pulled it out of the sleeve of my coat. Once he did, I felt completely exposed again. My pulse jumped wildly, and my breathing sped up.
He stared at the tattoo for a while before letting go of my arm. “How old were you when you got this done?”
I swallowed thickly, unable to speak.
His eyes met mine, and I read the question in them: Why?
When I still didn’t answer, he shook his head slightly. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“No, wait!” I exclaimed, reaching for his hands. “Please don’t—”
Before I could finish my sentence, he jerked his hands away from me. He glanced quickly at the door behind me, then leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Don’t get any ideas.”
Then he walked away without another word.
***
In the hallway outside our apartment, I waited for him to turn around and walk back toward me. But after a couple of minutes, I realized that wasn’t happening anytime soon. So I headed back into the living room, closing the door behind me.
As I sat down on the couch, I heard the sound of footsteps coming toward me. I braced myself, expecting to hear the rattle of keys being inserted into a lock. Instead, however, I heard the click of a lighter followed by the soft scent of smoke.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him standing there holding a cigarette between his lips. His hair was mussed, and his eyes were hooded beneath heavy lids.
He exhaled a cloud of gray-blue smoke, then blew it toward me. I flinched, coughing as the air stung my lungs.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
I glared at him. “Next time, try not to blow your smoke directly at me.”
He shrugged. “You’re lucky I’m such a considerate smoker, then. Otherwise, I might accidentally set fire to you with one of my careless drags.”
“Oh yeah?” I scoffed. “And what exactly are you trying to accomplish here anyway? Trying to kill yourself, maybe?”
A small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That’s not funny, and you know it.”
“Maybe not to you,” I replied. “But I think it is to everyone else who knows what we went through together last summer. Because they all remember how badly you freaked out whenever anyone mentioned the idea of getting a new tattoo.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve changed my mind since then.”
“So why won’t you tell me where you got yours?”
“Because I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What does ‘it’ mean?”
“Just forget it, okay?” he snapped.
“Fine.”
Without another word, he turned and left the apartment.
I frowned, watching him disappear down the hall. After a moment, I stood up and hurried to my bedroom, hoping to find something that would help me figure out what had happened between us. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even begin to see past the obvious—the fact that he’d refused to explain anything to me.
Once I finished searching, I climbed onto my bed and lay down. For a long time, I stared up at the ceiling, wondering if I should call him or text him. But no matter which option I chose, I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid the conversation forever. And eventually, I’d have to talk to him about it.
Eventually, I fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke up early and dressed quickly. As I brushed my teeth, I decided to leave a note for him instead of calling him first thing. It seemed more mature than texting, and hopefully less likely to lead to an argument.
By the time I made it downstairs, however, I found two messages waiting for me on my phone. One was from my mom, asking me to pick up a few things for her from the grocery store later. The other one was from Luke.
I opened it immediately.
Hey, sorry I missed you yesterday. Hope you’re doing ok. If you ever want to talk, just let me know.
My heart skipped a beat. Had he really texted me? Or was it someone pretending to be him?
Either way, I needed answers now. So I called him right away. When he answered, I blurted out everything that had happened the night before. Then, when I was done, I hung up and paced nervously across the kitchen floor.
After a minute, I heard the front door open and close. A second later, he came inside.
“Hi,” I said, hurrying over to meet him. “Did you get my message?”
“Uh…” He looked confused. “Yeah… I guess so. What did you say?”
“I told you about the tattoo.”
“Right,” he murmured. “Well, uh… I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what this has to do with anything.”
“Obviously, it’s relevant,” I argued. “We need to talk about it.”
He shook his head. “No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do!” I insisted. “If you’re going to keep lying to me, then I’ll never trust you again.”
“Trust me?” he echoed. “Are you serious? You trusted me enough to sleep with me last night, didn’t you?”
His words hit me like a punch in the stomach. My cheeks flushed hot, and my hands trembled.
“It wasn’t like that,” I sputtered. “I thought you loved me! Why aren’t you telling me these things?”
He took a step back, looking uncomfortable. “Look, I know you probably feel betrayed by me right now, but—”
“How could you possibly know that?!” I cried. “You haven’t even explained why you lied to me about your tattoo, much less what happened last year!”
“I already told you everything I know,” he replied. “There’s nothing else to talk about. Now please, stop yelling at me.”
“Stop yelling?” I repeated incredulously. “This isn’t fair. How am I supposed to move forward knowing that you’re keeping secrets from me? That you’re still hiding things from me after everything we’ve been through?”
“Like I said, there’s nothing left to discuss.”
I felt tears sting my eyes. “Then why did you lie to me?”
“Forget it,” he muttered. “Let’s go to class.”
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” I warned? “Not until you tell me exactly what happened.”
“You said you wanted honesty, right?” he shot back. “And yet here you are acting like a child because I’m refusing to give you what you want.”
“That’s not true,” I retorted. “All I asked for was some kind of explanation—something that would make sense. Instead, you’re making excuses, trying to brush everything under the rug.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “Here’s the truth: I got into a fight with my brother last summer. We were both drunk, and I ended up getting arrested. They gave me twenty-four hours to come clean about who’d attacked me, or they were going to press charges against me too. Basically, I had to confess to assaulting if I wanted to stay out of jail.”
“But how does that relate to your tattoo?” I demanded. “What happened between you and your brother?”
“Nothing happened,” he said curtly. “I mean, he punched me, but I defended myself. And anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. I paid off the rest of my bail, and I went home. But I couldn’t risk facing any consequences, so I covered up my tattoo with makeup.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t have a choice?” I pressed. “You weren’t allowed to explain yourself?”
“Of course I was,” he scoffed. “They knew all along that I hadn’t actually hurt anyone. It was only a matter of time before they dropped the charges altogether. All I had to do was wait it out.”
“Wait what out?” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you call me? Why did you leave without telling me where you were going?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t approve,” he said flatly. “I figured you would try to force me to come home with you, and I refused to put you in that position. Besides, I didn’t think you cared that much about me.”
“I care more than you realize,” I whispered. “Maybe not as much as you do, but I love you just the same.”
“Oh yeah?” he sneered. “How many times did you fantasize about me while you were banging another guy on our wedding day?”
My mouth fell open in shock. “What is wrong with you?! Don’t you ever listen to what people say around you? Do you really believe everyone thinks you’re such an asshole?”
“Everyone knows better,” he shot back. “At least, most of them do. The ones who don’t can kiss my ass.”
“Do you honestly expect me to be okay with that?” I shouted. “Is that what you want? For us to break up over something that happened two years ago?”
“It’s not about what I want,” he snarled. “It’s about what’s best for you. You deserve someone who will treat you well.”
“No one deserves to be cheated on,” I seethed. “Especially not by their husband.”
“Well then maybe you should start treating me like a man instead of some kind of sex toy.”
“A what?” I gasped. “Did you seriously just refer to me as your wife?”
“Yes, I did,” he growled. “Now get lost.”
With that, he turned and stormed down the hallway toward his classroom. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to process what had just happened. He’d never spoken to me like this before. Not once. And now he was accusing me of being unfaithful when he himself had done far worse.
I watched him disappear inside the door, fighting back tears. My heart sank. I wasn’t sure whether to follow after him or run away. In fact, I didn’t know which way to turn. What I did know was that I needed answers, and I was determined to find them no matter what.
***
The next morning, I woke up feeling sick to my stomach. As soon as I opened my eyes, I realized there was a reason for my discomfort. I stared at the ceiling, wondering if I could possibly survive the day without throwing up.
I tried to focus on anything else, but my mind kept returning to the conversation we’d had the night before. Every word was replaying itself in my head over and over again.
I thought about the things he’d said, and I wondered if I’d misheard him. Maybe he hadn’t meant it quite the way it sounded, and maybe I just imagined hearing those words coming out of his mouth.
Or perhaps I was just imagining things because I was tired and emotional. Whatever the case may be, I decided I would give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he was probably just upset from having to face the music.
Unfortunately, I quickly learned that I was mistaken. When I arrived at school, I found him sitting alone in the teachers’ lounge, looking miserable. His expression was dark, and he looked angry as hell. That’s when I remembered why I hated mornings.
“Good morning,” I greeted him coolly. “Are you ready to go?”
He glared at me. “Don’t ‘good morning’ me,” he snapped. “Just tell me what you want.”
“What do you mean?” I asked warily. “And please stop glaring at me. It’s making me uncomfortable.”
“I’m not doing anything,” he grumbled. “I’ve been waiting here for twenty minutes already.”
“Sorry,” I apologized. “I got caught up talking with Mr. Martinez last night. Did you need something?”
“Yeah, I do,” he replied angrily. “This whole thing has gotten completely out of hand. Everyone is whispering behind my back, and I have no idea how to make them shut up.”
“You might want to consider apologizing,” I suggested. “That usually works pretty well.”
“Apologizing won’t fix this,” he spat. “I’ll apologize when they stop calling me names. Until then, I refuse to let any of these idiots intimidate me into changing my behavior.”
“If you think that’s going to work,” I scoffed. “Then you obviously haven’t heard what everyone is saying. They’re convinced you’re cheating on me.”
His jaw dropped open in surprise. “What?!”
“They’re all saying you slept with Mr. Martinez,” I explained. “Apparently, he told them everything.”
“Bullshit!” he roared. “Mr. Martinez isn’t even gay! How dare he accuse me of sleeping with him?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But apparently, he did. So unless you plan on denying it, I suggest you come up with another excuse. Otherwise, people are going to keep thinking the worst of you. And trust me when I say that none of them will ever believe you were innocent in this situation.”
“Why would anyone care anyway?” he demanded. “We weren’t even together anymore. We broke up almost three months ago.”
“People aren’t stupid,” I reminded him. “They can see right through you.”
“Whatever,” he huffed. “It doesn’t matter. You’re wrong, so whatever you hear, ignore it. The only person who matters knows the truth, and she’s the one I love more than anything. She’s the only woman I’ll ever love, and nothing is going to change that.”
“Oh really?” I challenged. “Because if you think I’m just going to sit around and take this, then you must be crazy. I intend to prove to everyone that you’re lying.”
“Fine,” he growled. “Prove it. Go ahead. Try your best to ruin my life. Just remember that I’ll always love her, and I’ll never forget what you’ve done.”
“Wow,” I muttered under my breath. “Didn’t expect that response.”
“Well, I guess you should’ve known better,” he shot back. “You’re the one who wanted to fight dirty.”
“No, I didn’t,” I argued. “I just assumed you knew how to play nice.”
“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. But I am still pissed off, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. Now get lost. I don’t want to talk to you until after graduation.”
“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly. “I understand. If you’re sure…”
“Yes, I’m sure,” he insisted. “Now leave me alone.”
“All right,” I nodded. Before I turned away, however, I couldn’t resist asking him one final question. “By the way, did you sleep with Mr. Martinez?”
“Of course not,” he answered curtly. “I’d never cheat on my girlfriend.”
“Really?” I questioned skeptically. “How do you know? Maybe he lied about it.”
“Maybe he did,” he retorted. “But I doubt it. He’s a good guy, and I wouldn’t betray his trust. Besides, I wasn’t interested in him. All I cared about was you.”
“Well, I hope you’re telling the truth,” I said sincerely. “Because if you’re not… Well, I can promise you that we’ll be seeing each other again soon enough.”
With that, I walked away from him without looking back. I had my own problems to deal with, and I could no longer afford to worry about him. My relationship with Ms. Andrews was far too important.
The End