Catherine's POV
One of my earliest memories is sitting on my mother's knee, watching the sunlight stream in from outside one of the windows of City Hall, forming a halo around my dad's head as he gives his speeches. The beams were like little pieces of heaven, and I was convinced they came straight from God to bathe my father in his goodness.
Because in my young mind, my father was good and strong. He was the guy who hugged me for as long and as often as I wanted. Kissed me on the nose and called me his sweets. He was the man who tucked me into bed and read Roald Dahl books to me over and over and over again because I asked him to.
My dad was that guy. The man all my friends loved, the man who was bigger and stronger and smarter than anyone else I knew. His voice was love and his eyes were a promise.
He was so handsome that a smile or a touch on the shoulder made most women giggle like little schoolgirls. My mum used to tease him about it. She called it the Mayor Factor. And she said that it wasn't just his charisma and charm that filled his ballot boxes. It was his ready smile and the way he could make anyone feel special just by looking at them.
She had a point, but I always thought it was my father's voice that drew people in. Like he had some magical quality that hypnotized and cajoled until you couldn't help but agree and say vote for him. It worked at every single election.
He was good. He was better than good. I'd give him that. And up until a year ago, he had me fooled. The sad thing is that sometimes I wish I was still fooled because there was something safe about floating through life on a cloud of ignorance. It is, as they say, bliss after all.
Sometimes it felt as if my sanity was hanging at the edge of a tiny little crack, and every day that crack got a little bigger. And every day I wondered, is this the day that I'll fall and break? Is this the day that I lose it and ruin the perfect lie that is my life?
Turns out Sunday wasn't the day for cracking and spilling. Nope. It had been no different from any other day that I could remember. I'd gotten up early, gone for a run, had breakfast with mum and Billy, and gone back to sleep. Don't judge me. That's how I like to spend my Sundays.
I was thinking about my uneventful Sunday on Monday afternoon as I sat in the library waiting for Jason. Mrs. Walker came by and asked if Jason was okay. I smiled and said he was fine, aware that the two girls one table over were listening closely. What else could I say? It's not as if I knew anything, and besides, it felt weird discussing Jason behind his back.
Mrs. Walker hung around a few more moments as if waiting for me to offer something more, and when it was obvious that I had nothing, she cleared her throat and moved on.
Annabeth was on her way home from her camping trip, and she'd texted me at least twenty times in the last half hour. They were nauseating and super fluffy texts filled with happy faces and the name Noah. I was happy that she was so into this guy, but I had to be honest, I was a little jealous as well. How could I not be? The texts. They were unending.
Beth: do you think love, at first sight, is real
Me: No
Beth: I think it's totally real
Me: I think lust, at first sight, is what you're talking about
Beth: you're wrong
Me: then why ask
Beth: because you're my friend and you're supposed to agree with everything I say
Me: that I am and no I don't
Beth: Wow, you're grumpy
Me: yep
Beth: So do you think Noah is hot or what?
Ugh. Isn't love annoying?
It wasn't until I read Annabeth's last text that I realized I'd been waiting in the library for nearly twenty minutes. I sent Jason a text - he was super late - and waited for another five before scooping up my bag. I was irritated.
I thought of that slow crooked smile and the way he had looked at me. I was irritated, and - there was no other word for it - disappointed. For some stupid reason, I thought we'd connected on Saturday. We laid beside each other at Cook's Creek for a long time, not touching, but somehow it felt as if I was wrapped up in Jason Smith. And that had felt...nice. No. Nice is too simple a word to describe what it felt like, but for now, I guess it would have to do since I had nothing else.
Tossing my bag across my shoulder, I marched out of the library, wincing when I walked into the sunshine. I checked my phone one last time and muttered to myself as I took off down the sidewalk.
He could have at least called to let me know he wouldn't make it. That was what you did so as not to inconvenience someone (at least as a decent human being). And that's what I was feeling. Very inconvenienced.
I'd taken at least ten steps when something tingled along the back of my neck Some invisible radar that made me hyper-aware. Slowly I removed the buds from my ears and glanced across the street towards the park.
A guy leaned against one of the big old oak trees, hands shoved into the front pocket of his jeans, a bag at his feet. His head was down so he didn't see me because his hair covered most of his face while his one foot tapped the ground furiously.
Jason.
I must have said his name out loud because he raised his head. Or maybe I hadn't said anything at all and it was a coincidence.
But as I stared across the street at him, I couldn't deny the little bit of happiness I felt. Chest tight, I waved again and then lifted the hair off the back of my neck.
I felt like I was back in sixth grade, staring across the closet at this guy who was larger than life. A boy whose gravity pull was so strong, it was enough to suck me in.
He lifted his chin as if to say hey and then gave a small wave.
I could have done one of two things at this point. I could have given him the sort of salute he deserved. You know, the big old bird salute. Or I could let his gravity work its magic and pull me in.
Two guesses as to which one won.
"Catherine," he said, a hint of gruff in his voice.
I'd crossed the street and stood a few inches away, wary of his pull and not entirely sure I'd made the right choice.
"You're really late," I retorted.
For a few minutes, his eyes dropped, and I felt like shit.
"Sorry, I just..." His voice trailed off as he stared across the street at the library. "I've been out here for almost half an hour. My dad dropped me off on his way back from lunch, but I just..."
A few awkward moments passed as I watched him, and it was then I knew.
"Mrs. Walker can be a bit overwhelming. I get it."
His eyes shot back to mine, and for the first time since we started this whole thing, I felt as if I was seeing the real Jason Smith. Sure, sure he looked like he had his shit together, but he was scared and kind of messed up, and I was pretty sure he didn't want to talk about what had happened with Mrs. Walker. We both knew that as soon as she saw him, she'd be all over that.
"Do you want to study at my house?"
I did not say that. What the hell?
His eyes softened, and the way he tilted his head to look at me had my heart leaping all over the place like a fistful of jumping beans.
"Are you sure?"
No. My dad was home, and being around him was the last place I wanted to be right now. Pretending that all was shiny and happy in my world wasn't always easy, at least not lately. But pretending in front of a crowd? That would be plain awful.
A slow crooked smile was making its way across Jason's face, and there went those jumping beans again.
Jason Smith might be damaged, but he was also dangerous, and I knew him well enough to know his smile wasn't exclusive. The power of that smile was legendary. I had to remember that even though a direct result of the power of said smile was a stomach full of butterflies, we were only studying buddies. Nothing more.
Today, he was relieved that he didn't have to face his demons. There would be no Mrs. Walker. No one staring or asking inappropriate questions.
I totally got that, and I knew his beautiful smile wasn't one hundred percent for me. As we slowly headed down the street to my home, I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be the girl on the receiving end of that smile and to know it was all for her.