looked him in the eye. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch to get a taste of lips as sweet as that.”
The snow was melting. It was Saturday, and Nick woke up late. He had barely been able to sleep the night before, after waiting up for Elizabeth and then seeing Sam step from her car. He had drifted off that morning with the approach of dawn.
Outside his window on the third floor of the brick house, the sun was shining. Icicles had formed on the eaves, glistening like long slivers of crystal. The window was open a crack, and a breeze was blowing into the room, fresh with the leafy, grassy smell of melting snow. Before anything else, Nick became aware of the silver chain he had bought for Elizabeth around his neck. He had put it on the night before after getting home, deciding to keep it himself as a reminder of his feelings for Elizabeth. It had gotten caught underneath him during his sleep, lightly strangling him. Then the slosh of footsteps three stories beneath him entered his consciousness, followed by the echo of his name being called. He pulled himself out of bed and walked in his boxer shorts to the window. Elizabeth Munroe was outside in her backyard, looking up at the house.
Ten minutes later, Nick was standing with her beneath the low overhang of her parents’ back porch. Her hands were loose on his waist. He was aware of her fingers on his skin. “I’m sorry, Nick,” Elizabeth said. “You have to believe me. I’m sorry.”
Nick was overcome by the depth of her emotion. He ran his fingers through her long blond hair. “But I saw you, Liz,” he said. “Last night, you went to the dance with Sam.”
They had held hands before. But Nick had never been brave enough to kiss her. He liked the way she was leaning into him now. He could feel the swell of her young breasts against his chest. She lifted herself onto her toes, raising her mouth toward his. He could smell her hair.
She crushed her lips against his. His face became wet with her tears. Her fingernails dug into his back. Her hair caught in his mouth. “I’m sorry,” she kept saying. “I don’t want Sam. I want you.”
The ambush took Nick by surprise. Sam had hidden himself behind the birch trees on the front lawn. As Nick headed back home, he leapt out and grabbed hold of Nick’s jacket and slung him backward. The ground was icy, and Nick’s feet slipped underneath him. His back slammed into the side of a tree. Sam grabbed him by his wrists, pinning him. The bark tore into his skin, and the shock of the sudden violence left him winded. He tried to fight back, but Sam was taller and stronger. Nick was barely able to remain on his feet. Sam’s fist landed on his face. He began to fall, but his brother held him up, hitting him again and again, until Nick, at sixteen, his face bruised and bloody, collapsed to the ground, his cheeks wet with blood and tears.
When Sam leaned down toward him, Nick thought that his brother was going to pick him back up. Instead, Sam placed a knee onto his chest and pinned him, then wrapped his hands around Nick’s neck. Nick looked up at him, unable to resist, unable to comprehend, as his brother dug his thumbs into his windpipe and squeezed, choking him. Strangling him. Nick panicked. It felt as if he might suffocate. Still, Sam didn’t let go of him. Not until Nick began to black out. Not until Nick understood that his brother was holding his life in his hands.
“Stay away from her,” Sam growled. “You hear me?” At last, he let Nick go. “Stay the hell away from her.”
Nick swiveled away from Sara, moving without thinking. He was aware of the strength radiating from his arms. An exultant sense of satisfaction shot like a jolt through his body the instant his hands connected with the tweed of the sandy-haired man’s jacket. His fingers tightened around the fabric until the cloth ripped. Nick pulled the man to him, then shoved him backward hard, and the man went sprawling, tumbling into his own
The snow was melting. It was Saturday, and Nick woke up late. He had barely been able to sleep the night before, after waiting up for Elizabeth and then seeing Sam step from her car. He had drifted off that morning with the approach of dawn.
Outside his window on the third floor of the brick house, the sun was shining. Icicles had formed on the eaves, glistening like long slivers of crystal. The window was open a crack, and a breeze was blowing into the room, fresh with the leafy, grassy smell of melting snow. Before anything else, Nick became aware of the silver chain he had bought for Elizabeth around his neck. He had put it on the night before after getting home, deciding to keep it himself as a reminder of his feelings for Elizabeth. It had gotten caught underneath him during his sleep, lightly strangling him. Then the slosh of footsteps three stories beneath him entered his consciousness, followed by the echo of his name being called. He pulled himself out of bed and walked in his boxer shorts to the window. Elizabeth Munroe was outside in her backyard, looking up at the house.
Ten minutes later, Nick was standing with her beneath the low overhang of her parents’ back porch. Her hands were loose on his waist. He was aware of her fingers on his skin. “I’m sorry, Nick,” Elizabeth said. “You have to believe me. I’m sorry.”
Nick was overcome by the depth of her emotion. He ran his fingers through her long blond hair. “But I saw you, Liz,” he said. “Last night, you went to the dance with Sam.”
They had held hands before. But Nick had never been brave enough to kiss her. He liked the way she was leaning into him now. He could feel the swell of her young breasts against his chest. She lifted herself onto her toes, raising her mouth toward his. He could smell her hair.
She crushed her lips against his. His face became wet with her tears. Her fingernails dug into his back. Her hair caught in his mouth. “I’m sorry,” she kept saying. “I don’t want Sam. I want you.”
The ambush took Nick by surprise. Sam had hidden himself behind the birch trees on the front lawn. As Nick headed back home, he leapt out and grabbed hold of Nick’s jacket and slung him backward. The ground was icy, and Nick’s feet slipped underneath him. His back slammed into the side of a tree. Sam grabbed him by his wrists, pinning him. The bark tore into his skin, and the shock of the sudden violence left him winded. He tried to fight back, but Sam was taller and stronger. Nick was barely able to remain on his feet. Sam’s fist landed on his face. He began to fall, but his brother held him up, hitting him again and again, until Nick, at sixteen, his face bruised and bloody, collapsed to the ground, his cheeks wet with blood and tears.
When Sam leaned down toward him, Nick thought that his brother was going to pick him back up. Instead, Sam placed a knee onto his chest and pinned him, then wrapped his hands around Nick’s neck. Nick looked up at him, unable to resist, unable to comprehend, as his brother dug his thumbs into his windpipe and squeezed, choking him. Strangling him. Nick panicked. It felt as if he might suffocate. Still, Sam didn’t let go of him. Not until Nick began to black out. Not until Nick understood that his brother was holding his life in his hands.
“Stay away from her,” Sam growled. “You hear me?” At last, he let Nick go. “Stay the hell away from her.”
Nick swiveled away from Sara, moving without thinking. He was aware of the strength radiating from his arms. An exultant sense of satisfaction shot like a jolt through his body the instant his hands connected with the tweed of the sandy-haired man’s jacket. His fingers tightened around the fabric until the cloth ripped. Nick pulled the man to him, then shoved him backward hard, and the man went sprawling, tumbling into his own
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