Read Online Something About Love: A YA contemporary romance in verse by Elana Johnson - Free Book Online Page B

abruptly and
    Leave the kitchen.
    I’m halfway up the stairs when
    Rose darts in front of me before
    I can wipe my eyes.
    “Why are you crying?”
    Her face is so open,
    Her tone so concerned.
    I grab her in a hug, and
    Hold on tight.
    “I don’t know,” I whisper into her golden hair.
    But I do.
    I just don’t know how to say it in words, but
    I know I’m crying because
    I’ve been such a beast to my mom.
    I’ve been so removed,
    So angry,
    So cruel,
    That a simple smile from me
    Makes her entire evening.
    I release Rose and
    Sprint up the rest of the stairs and into our room.
    I close and lock the door before
    Leaning against it,
    The tears flowing in waves
    Down my face.

YOU STILL UP?
    My phone buzzes against my chest,
    Waking me from the half-sleep
    I’ve fallen into.
    I check the text to see who it’s from.
    Trevor.
    I consider ignoring him, until
    I remember the look on my mom’s face, and
    The way my attention influenced her.
    Unfortunately, I text him.
    What’s the harm in a text? I think.
    Nothing, I answer myself,
    If he wasn’t the guy you used to date, and
    Exactly who you want to be alone with again.
    You wanna shoot tomorrow? he asks.
    No, I do not want to shoot tomorrow, I think, but
    I don’t type that into my phone.
    My plans for tomorrow are blank,
    The whole day wide open for Mom to
    Take me shopping, or
    Sigh loudly at the shortness of my hair, or
    Ask me to clean some random corner of this house I barely live in.
    What time? I text,
    Wondering if I’m allowed to go back to Dad’s
    On my mom’s weekend.
    Afternoon, he answers.
    I have weight training in the morning.
    Can you get my camera gear on the way over?

“YOUR DAD SEEMED SURPRISED TO SEE ME.”
    Trevor unshoulders my camera pack and
    Hands it to me as I step out of my bedroom and
    Into the hall.
    “I texted him,” I say, trying not to take a deep drag of Trevor’s cologne.
    He smells like his typical musky aftershave, something
    I’ve always been attracted to.
    Now, my only defense against him would be to
    Glue my nostrils shut.
    I spend a few seconds admiring him.
    His dark brown hair,
    His blue eyes,
    His football physique.
    I turn away before
    The situation becomes awkward.
    “He should’ve known you were coming.”
    “Yeah, well, he didn’t.”
    He follows me as I start down the stairs.
    “And might I say that I really like the new paint color in your bedroom.”
    My step stutters;
    I grasp the railing for support, because
    The breath has left my body.
    “You went in my bedroom?”
    I can’t even remember what condition I left it in, but
    I know I didn’t clean it before
    Coming to the Youngblood’s.
    “I had to.”
    Trevor moves past me down the stairs,
    Glancing at me as he does.
    “Your dad had no idea where your camera bag was.”
    “What else did you see in my bedroom?”
    An image of the stack of journals on my nightstand
    Makes my stomach turn.
    I’ve been leafing through the diaries every night before
    I fall asleep.
    “Nothing,” Trevor assures me.
    “Your dad came in the room with me,
    Hunted around until we found it.”
    My cheeks feel hot, and
    I have no hair to hide that fact.
    I close my eyes in a long blink,
    Clench my fingers around the banister,
    Until I feel like I can breathe again.
    “I’ve been in your bedroom before,” he says.
    “What’s the big deal?”
    “Stop it,” I say.
    “You know what the big deal is.
    And—”
    I point at him though it jostles the
    Already-balanced-precariously camera bag on my back.
    “—The one time you’ve been in my bedroom was
    Simply to get my phone off my desk.
    Nothing happened.”
    “Don’t remind me,” he mutters, and
    I can suddenly hear him telling me he wants to sleep with me.
    The heat in my cheeks is no longer from panic.
    I brush past him with my face turned so he can’t see the blush and
    Head for the garage.
    “You have a car, right?” I call over my shoulder.
    “Yeah,” he says, “But I thought we were shooting