In Deep Waters (The Summer House series #1)

23

Mid Winter
2004
DREW

From the very first moment, she was like a piece of me that I didn't know myself without. I didn't know how much I'd needed her until now.

We never did anything apart. She was there when I was learning to write, when I lost my first tooth, when I fell off my bike for the first time. Every birthday, Christmas, and holiday, she was there. She wasn't a freckly, accident prone little kid anymore with permanent red lips from sucking on too many ice blocks, but she was still Keeley all the same. 

Keeley Anderson.

The first time I'd noticed, noticed in a different way was her fifteenth birthday last year. She'd decided she wanted to do a dinner in the treehouse. I told her I'd meet her by the edge of the woods with the lantern. And when I'd seen her walk towards me, my tongue had just caught in my mouth, my heart in my chest, and the feeling I felt was something I'd never felt before.

She'd always been beautiful. But she was wearing a long white flowy dress that caught the moonlight that night. And the way that it had clung to her olive skin and her body, I had to compose myself. I could see the outline of her through the thin fabric. Everything about her then stood out, like I was seeing her for the very first time. Her hair, long, dark and shiny, falling all around her face and swaying in the summer breeze. And her face, her lips and the way she smiled, how it reached all the way up into her olive green eyes.

After that night I looked at her differently, like really, differently. We weren't kids anymore, I knew that now. Stop it, I tried to tell myself. But it didn't work. It had never worked since then. Something had changed. I needed her in a way that I hadn't before.

And I didn't just need her, I wanted her, badly.

But now I had severely fucked that up.

I hadn't realised how hard I'd been gripping the pencil until it snapped in my hand, rolling off my desk and onto the floor.

"Fuck!" I said, slamming my hand down on the hard wood and pushing my chair out to stand up.

No more studying. I couldn't sit here any longer. I wasn't really getting much done, I just couldn't concentrate. Half the reason why I'd shut myself in here was because I just couldn't bare to be around her, see the pain in her eyes from what I'd done at Christmas. I was scared I would do something stupid again, or that she would push me away.

But I'd pushed her away, because of my own irrational fears of messing things up so badly with her, that I'd loose her forever. Because of the self doubt, everything that I should be that my Dad wanted me to be, I wasn't.

I'd thought that she deserved better.

But now, I wasn't sure I could do this any longer. This was just as bad as all of that. It felt like I'd lost her anyway, we had barely spoken. If I was going to fix this, I had to try, I just couldn't mess it up this time. Or else, my worst fear really would come true.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess as per usual, and my clothes looked like I hadn't showered in days. I probably stunk. I quickly freshened up in the shower and changed into some jeans and a nicer shirt, spraying some cologne on.

I took another glance, taking a deep anxious breath as I quickly ran my hand through my hair to break apart some of the messy curls, my palms already starting to sweat.