Better than Perfect (22 page)

“We don't want to interrupt your dinner,” Ashtyn says, although she's eyeing the chicken and rice as if it were a gourmet meal. She looks exhausted, but that chicken sure does bring a light to her eyes.

“Thank you, ma'am.” I take a seat.

Sylvia does most of the talking while we eat. She tells us how she and Irv met when they were young and have four children. One is a doctor, one is a lawyer, and one is a pharmacist.

“I don't know what the hell our son Jerry does,” Irv says.

Sylvia taps Irv on the shoulder. “Don't say ‘hell' in front of these nice kids, Irv.” Irv mumbles a quick apology before chowing down.

Ashtyn and I are chowing down, too. The chicken is tender and the seasoning makes my mouth water. The rice tastes damn good, too. I haven't had a good home-cooked meal in forever. Ashtyn must feel the same way, because she's done with her chicken and is chowing down on the rice.

“How long have you two been dating?” Sylvia asks.

“We're not datin',” I answer.

“Why not?”

Ashtyn looks up from her plate. “Because he only likes stupid girls who want one-night stands.”

“And she only likes jocks who play football,” I say, challenging her.

Sylvia tilts her head as if she's scrutinizing my choice of girls while Irv looks at me appreciatively.

“You don't want to let the girl of your dreams get away,” Sylvia tells me. “Tell him why, Irv.” Irv is busy eating and doesn't seem to want to stop. “Irv!”

He finally puts his fork down. “What?”

“Do you have your hearing aids on?” Sylvia asks him. After he nods, she repeats in a louder tone, “Tell Derek here why he shouldn't let the girl of his dreams get away!”

Irving brings Sylvia's hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “When I saw Sylvia for the first time, I was hired to paint her house. She
had a boyfriend who she was expected to marry, but I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her that she was the one. She probably wasn't supposed to talk to the help, but she'd watch me paint and chat with me while I worked. I'd fallen madly in love with the girl and knew she was the girl of my dreams.” He stops to look into Sylvia's eyes longingly. “So when it was time to paint Sylvia's room, I painted MARRY ME on her wall.” He laughs. “She wrote her answer on the wall so I'd find it the next day.”

“What happened?” Ashtyn asks, completely into the story as if it's a fairy tale.

“Obviously she said yes, because they're married,” I tell her.

“Actually, Irving never saw what I'd written because my parents found out what he'd done and fired him,” Sylvia says. “They didn't want me marrying a painter.”

“But I never gave up. I came to her house every day, asking for her hand.”

“Eventually my parents gave in.” Sylvia pats Irving's hand. “And we were married six months later. That was sixty years ago.”

Ashtyn sits back and sighs. “That's a wonderful story. So romantic.”

“That's why you don't let the girl of your dreams get away, Derek.” Sylvia wags her finger at me.

I think about what Ashtyn would look like sixty years from now sitting across the table from me. I bet she'd still have that same sparkle in her eyes and those kissable lips. She'd be grateful someone finally stuck by her all those years when everyone else failed her.

But I can't be that guy.

I might not make it past thirty-five, the age my mom was when she died. Right now, as I look across the table at the girl who could very well be the girl of my dreams, I know I won't marry her. I'm going to let someone else be her Irving, someone who'll be able to sit across from her sixty years from now and look into her eyes as if his would have been a horrible existence if not for her.

“Yeah, well, Ashtyn here is bossy and controlling.” My food threatens to come up as I add, “Since I don't like bossy and controlling girls, she ain't the girl of my dreams.”

“Derek is actually the most annoying boy I've ever met,” Ashtyn chimes in with a fake smile. “So if he painted MARRY ME on my wall, I'd put a circle around it and slash a line right through it.”

I'm not going to let Derek think his comments weigh heavily on my mind or my heart. Back at our campsite, I announce that I'm tired and want to go to bed.

Tonight I won't freeze my ass off, because I put on two pairs of socks, two pairs of sweats, and two jerseys. I must look like a puffed-up marshmallow, but I don't care. I don't want to be weak in the middle of the night and ask him to hold me.

The entire time Irving was telling his story, I thought about the boy of my dreams. I imagined Derek looking at me across a dinner table sixty years from now.

But Derek doesn't want to be my boyfriend. He says he couldn't be with me because I'm controlling and bossy. But could I be someone else for him? If I change, will he want to love me?

The problem is that last night, knowing he was near and wouldn't let go of me, made me feel something I haven't felt in a
long time. When he told me he wouldn't leave me, I believed him. I found myself wanting to fall in love with him.

Truth is, I think I already have.

It hurts, because I have to either give up on ever having my feelings reciprocated or become the kind of girl Derek wants. Ugh, I don't know what to do.

I hear wood crackling and leaves crunching underneath his footsteps as I lie in the tent. A few minutes later Derek peeks inside.

“You sure you don't want to sit outside for a bit?” he asks in that deep voice that penetrates the cool night air. “It's warm by the fire.”

If I look at him, my heart will skip a beat and I might be tempted to tell him how I feel. I can't do that. “I'm fine. Just go to the fire and leave me alone,” I bark, trying to push him away so I can be alone in my misery. I'm so conflicted.

“What're you wearin'?” he asks.

“Practically everything in my entire duffel.” I fluff my pillow and turn away from him. “I won't be cold tonight, so you don't have to worry. You can rest easy knowing I won't ask you to keep me warm.”

“I don't . . .”

“You don't what?”

There's a long silence. “Forget it,” he finally says. “Good night, Ashtyn. See you in the mornin'.”

Tears form in my eyes. This isn't the way it's supposed to be when you fall in love. As controlling as he says I am, I wish I could
control the way he feels about me. But I can't. I know there's more between us than just a game, but how do I make him see it?

I wish I could control my emotions as I squeeze my eyes shut and will them to stay dry. But I can't. Silent tears start streaming down my face and fall onto my pillow.

One-sided love sucks.

I'm sitting alone in front of the fire. Irving walks up, holding a can of beer.

“You've got a nice fire going there,” he says.

I gesture to Ashtyn's empty chair. “Want to join me? Ashtyn went to sleep a while ago and I could use some company.”

He settles into the chair and takes a swig of beer. “Ashtyn seems like a nice girl. Spunky.”

“She's trouble. For me, at least.” I toss a stick into the fire. “My dad married her sister, so we're kind of stuck together . . . at least for a while.”

“You could do a lot worse than being stuck with a pretty girl on a road trip.”

“She drives me nuts.”

Irving chuckles as if sincerely amused. “Every worthwhile girl drives a man nuts, Derek. Just think what a boring world it
would be without girls who keep us on our toes. My Sylvia is a feisty ol' gal, but we complement each other. For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health . . . we've been through it all, which just made us stronger.”

I think about all the shit that's happened in the short time I've known Ashtyn. “We made a rule that we're not supposed to, you know . . .”

“Did you agree to it?”

“Well . . . yeah.”

He shrugs. “Seems to me that might've been your first mistake.”

“I don't know. Maybe it was.” And maybe it was an excuse to stay far away from her so I wouldn't have to deal with the consequences.

We spend the next twenty minutes staring into the fire. Irving was in the military, so I tell him that my dad is deployed. He tells me that he's an Army veteran. When I ask if it was hard for Sylvia when he was in the military, he said it was, but they kept in touch with letters and the rare phone call. When he was deployed, you couldn't communicate through e-mail or Skype.

He finishes his beer and stretches his legs out. “Well, I'm gonna get some shut-eye. Have a nice evening.” He gestures to our tent. “Keep an eye on her, because if you don't, I'll bet you some young buck is gonna snatch her up.”

“Yes, sir.”

When he leaves, I stay in front of the fire. Do I sleep next to Ashtyn? Fuck, I'm so aware of her I can't go in there and be next to her.

I sit in the chair by the fire, cross my arms on my chest, and close my eyes. It'll probably be the most uncomfortable night I've ever had, but that's okay. Today I'm not doing anything to shake up my life.

But tomorrow . . . well, tomorrow's another day.

I wake up in the middle of the night, burning up and drenched in sweat. Derek isn't in the tent. I strip off one of the jerseys and kick off my sweatpants and socks, then go back to sleep. A little later I wake up to the sound of rain tapping on the tent. Derek still isn't here and it doesn't look like he's been here all night. I figure he went to the bathroom, but after fifteen minutes there's still no sign of him. Worry settles in my chest.

What if he got attacked by a bear?

Or slipped in the mud on the way to the bathroom and hit his head on a rock?

Rain is coming down steadily as I grab a flashlight from my bag and walk outside. Derek's sitting with his arms crossed on his chest and a baseball cap perched on his head.

“Are you crazy? It's pouring,” I say.

“I know.”

“Then why aren't you in the tent, where it's dry and warm?”

“Because I was too tempted to break our no-touching-or-kissing rule.” He looks me up and down. “Bein' here with you . . . you've really got under my skin.”

“You want to break the rule?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm tryin' to push you away when all I want to do is hold you. I know you say you don't want a hero, but damn I'd like to be that guy who'll save you from spiders and whatever and whoever else hurts you.”

His words seep deep into the core of my heart. With our eyes locked, I straddle him on the chair. “I want to break the rule, too.”

My heart pounds rapidly and I grab his shoulders so he can steady me. I'm dizzy with wanting him to love me as much as I love him. He's soaking wet and now I'm soaking and rain falls on us and around us. I don't feel hot or cold . . . I'm too caught up in being with Derek, here in the dark in the middle of the night.

I've dropped the flashlight, so I can't see much. But I can feel. I can feel Derek's strong thighs beneath mine and his large hands circling my waist. I want to feel more, much more. The road to this moment was full of arguments and misunderstandings, but now we're in perfect sync.

He cups the back of my head and urges me to kiss him. When our lips meet, my insides get all tingly. He places little teasing kisses across my lips until I moan and want more . . . I want him to let go and stop trying to protect me from himself.

I open my mouth for a more intimate kiss in an attempt to
make him lose control. Our wet lips and tongues tangle around each other's.

I break the kiss and lean back. “I don't want to pretend I don't want this, Derek. Not tonight.”

“Me neither,” he admits.

Ever since I touched his muscular chest, I've wanted to run my hands over it again and again until I've memorized each ripple. I slide his shirt over his head and lightly brush my fingertips over his shoulders, then move down and feel the rapid rhythm of his heart beating against my palm. I trace the muscles on his stomach, and lightly rub his nipples until I hear him groan.

I like hearing his voice change. It means I've broken through that macho facade and his true emotions are exposed.

Through the darkness, I feel his eyes on me. He lifts my jersey over my head. I close my eyes as I let the rain drip on me and enjoy the sensation of Derek gently and slowly tracing the droplets traveling across my body with his fingertips. He replaces his fingers with his tongue. I start moving against him because it feels amazing and I don't want to stop. I want to keep going, to show Derek what it means to have a connection that'll last more than one night.

“You're beautiful, you know that?” he whispers.

I look away. “No, I'm not.”

“I can't imagine a more beautiful girl,” he says, then adds, “Even if you are controllin' and bossy.”

I lick the crook of his neck and he moans. “Maybe you'll learn to like controlling and bossy.”

“I think you're right.” He laces my hand through his, but stills
as my charm bracelet brushes his wrist. He feels for the clasp and unhooks it, then tosses it across the campsite. It hits the ground with a clatter.

“That was expensive. London bought it for me.”

“I know. I'll buy you a new one.” He laces his fingers through mine again.

We kiss for what seems like forever. When he licks the rain off my neck, I swear my body is on fire. I need something to put out the flame. I need Derek to touch me, to hold me.

I look in his eyes and without saying a word he knows what I'm asking.
Love me
.

“You're cold,” he says.