Catching Tatum (19 page)

“Why?”

“’Cause I have a tattoo of another guy's name on my butt and he saw it … Just kidding. I don't know. I mean I liked the plans and adventures ...”

“Ahhh, but he was too much into planning?”

“No ... not that.” I lowered my foot back to the ground, remembering. “He wanted to steal third. I'm telling ya, I'm all about the game. You can't cheat or you get kicked out!”

“What is third again?”

“Well, duh, if the girls come out at second, all the rest is in play at third, right?”

I heard him sigh and laugh under his breath. “All the rest?”

“Well, not scoring. I figured that was a given.”

“Works for me. Girl ... you're awesome.”

“I know. My momma told me boys like a good challenge. I'm the best kind and I have to tell you, my girls are well worth the work to get to them,” I teased. I shouldn't have but I liked him. At that time, I wouldn't have minded being exclusive with Parker.

“What's a guy gotta do to get to second with you?”

“That will stay a secret for now. I don't want to scare you away before we even go out ... but you can try to figure it out if you want.”

“What if I don't want to go to second?”

“Don't play then. Nobody's forcing you ...”

“Calm down! I wanna play, but I need to go really slow. This is all new for me.”

“Fair enough, but most guys don't want to go slow.”

“I'm not most guys.”

“You got me interested,” I said.

“Ha! You've had me a lot interested since your little dance around the fire. I'm coming for you; be ready.”

“Wait … when?”

“Sunday.”

“I'm a lucky girl! ... But you're not gonna get lucky.”

“Good, ‘cause I don't want to.”

“Good, ‘cause you're not going to.” I laughed.

“What's your address?”

I told him; then we talked a little longer before hanging up.

We texted and talked back and forth between the days but Parker refused to give anything away. He said if I had my secret rules for the game, he could keep the date a secret. The anticipation and teasing was wonderful. He won the title of best date ever. All others fell to the wayside. It was a perfect first date and the best part is that I've never had a regret about it. It stayed right where it was supposed to, we followed the rules, and I have a perfect day I can always dust off and remember. I love Parker for that; I always will.

We talked more about my game. I let it all come out, except the secret parts. He said he liked me even more for having one. He said it made me safe. He didn't want to rush into anything; he wanted a lady's company. He never talked much about where he came from, but said that growing up his two best friends, his only friends, were his girl, Haylee, and their friend, Lizzie. He was used to being around girls and the Air Force wasn't exactly crawling with them. Parker helped me to understand that not all guys were like Cole, or who Cole had been—not everything had to end with sex.

The plan was to meet early on Sunday. He told me to be ready at four o'clock in the morning. Some girls might not have it in them to be up that early on a weekend but some girls weren't me, with an early morning job and a military schedule running through their veins. He said we wouldn't be home until late ... if that was OK with me.

“I'm a big girl; I don't have a curfew.”

“OK, we're good then ... see ya bright and early, girl!” He gave a whoop as he hung up.

I laughed and held my phone to my chest, smiling, wondering what I was in for.

Four o'clock sharp I looked out our curtained front window; before then would seem desperate, but not a second after either. My dad said keeping someone waiting was one of the deepest kinds of disrespect. Parker was there, leaning on the side of his white Toyota 4runner, arms crossed over a dark hoodie, one leg kicked over the other. He wore simple jeans, no fades or holes, and well-worn hiking boots. Illuminated in the apartment's floodlight he looked kind of like James Dean, only without the smokes, t-shirt or pompadour, so actually I don't know what it was about him that reminded me of the rebel without a cause. Maybe it was the confidence in the way he waited, not anxious, rushed or insecure. He knew I was coming to him; he didn't force it—it was either that, or he didn't care one way or the other.

I grabbed my stuffed-to-the-seams gym bag and quietly closed the door behind me. The day before he gave me a list of things I “may or may not” need for the day, including: a bathing suit, towel, shoes to walk long distances in, jeans, sunscreen, a pen and paper, the book I was currently reading, and a loaf of my favorite bread. The bread didn't fit in my bag so I carried it separately.

It was surprisingly cold for a midsummer morning and I shivered when I got to him, goose bumps fully erupted on my arms.

“Hang on; let me get a coat.”

“Got it covered, girl.” He grinned.

He pulled off his hoodie. There was the white t-shirt—he
was
James Dean, with hiking boots.

“I don't need it. I can go get something.”

“It's fine,” he said, trading my bag and the bread for his sweatshirt. His warmth, cologne, and masculine scent chased away the chill as I shrugged it on, flooding my senses with memories of the night of the bonfire.

“It's supposed to warm way up.”

“Oh, really.” I smiled. He was so close; I wanted him already and the sun wasn't even up. I didn't know why he affected me that way.

He put his cheek next to mine, breathed me in deeply, and whispered into my ear, “I want to kiss you right now.”

HIS WORDS
sent a shiver down my spine. I pulled away, only slightly. Our lips almost touched. His minty-fresh breath tickled my nose; I hoped mine was as pleasing to him. “Same place, but later, after you earn it? Fair deal?” I asked, stepping back with all my might and extending my right hand.

He grinned and shook his head and my hand, then walked me around the SUV to the passenger side and opened the door for me. We drove far, far away from the base, from the city, from the urban sprawl and into the wilds of the North Cascades.

Parker was the kind of guy that could sit with someone comfortably for hours and never say a word. I didn't know that then and mistook his silence for nervousness. I don't think it ever was.

“So ... where are we going?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.

“A backwoods drive. It was one of your worst dates, remember?”

“You're going to replicate the worst date of my life. How kind of you.”

“No, I'm going to redeem it. You know what redemption is, don't you?”

“Uhhh, probably, but I don't know how to describe it.”

“Then you probably don't know. Redemption is two things that are kind of different and the same all at once.”

“OK ...” I said.

“It's like buying or taking something back, like if you're the defending team playing the championship game, right? ... And you lose, but then the next year you come back and win again ... you redeemed the title—you took it back. It's also like trading something worthless in for something way better, like a coupon—you trade a piece of paper for a better deal on something. I'm gonna redeem that memory. You can't blame nature for a horny kid's mistake. I'm going to do it right, so the next time someone asks, you'll have the bad time and the redemption story. Everyone deserves a do-over.”

It made me think of Cole who couldn't get a do-over with Stacy.

“You have any do-overs?” I asked Parker.

“Doesn't everyone? My whole life is a do-over. I messed up a lot when I was a kid. I got a second chance. I'm gonna do it right this time. Enough happens I can't control, might as well do the parts I can control the way I want.”

“What do you want?”

“Right now? Apparently you ...” He looked at me again, seriously, intimately. “To see if the idea of you matches up with who you really are.”

“What does that mean?”

“You have to understand,” he said, switching lanes to pass a semi. “I'm a thinker. I analyze things…” He tapped the side of his head, then said, “all the time, that's what I do, that's part of how I make a living. I've already made up an idea of exactly who I want you to be. I have no idea if you're really like that—we’ve only talked … what … three, four times? I don't know you; you don't know me. I'm a calm, quiet, laid-back kind of guy. All of this ...” He waved his hand around the truck and said “is just a show. I'm showing off. I thought up the best first date I could come up with and this is as good as it gets, girl. This is who I am. I live in a land of earth, wind, and water and I'm attracted to your fire because I don't get it. I'm a pretty mellow guy; I get accused of being boring a lot.”

“But you're in the Air Force! How can that be boring?”

“It's a job.” He shrugged. “I go where I have to go. I'll fight if I need to, but none of it means I
do
a lot—trust me, there's tons of down time. And I'm deliberate, which consists of a lot of sitting and thinking. I always have been.”

“You got a lot going on in your head ...”

“All the time and I could probably live the way I do for the rest of my life. I just need a girl to share it with.”

“You
are
looking for your One, huh?” I asked. I was not prepared for that. I got nervous all of a sudden. I didn't know if I wanted to be the one for him or not but I felt pressure to be her.

“I already found the one,” he said, “but she doesn't want me. I've tried everything,
everything
to get her back.” His face, I'll never forget it; it was the definition of a lost dream. I wanted to make all his pain go away. “And now,” he continued, “I'm twenty-four years old.” He looked at me. “And I'm lonely, and you're the first girl other than her I've ever been attracted to and I can't figure out why.”

I smiled. “That's why you asked me out? You think I could be your new girl?”

“I don't know. She's all there's ever been. But I can't stop thinking about you. You're fire.”

“What?”

“You're fire. Wild. Free. You do what you want, you own your life. You're like a big ball of kinetic energy; I like your heat.”

I smiled but I didn't know how to answer.

The whole time we were talking we had been driving north toward Seattle while hints of dawn started creeping up the edges of the Cascades. He exited the freeway while it was still mostly dark, and drove to a place I'd never been, onto streets I still do not know, and we wound our way out of the city, out of the suburbs, and into a rich land of trees and moss, and mountain views. The roads gave way to gravel and a little further on a sign read “End of County Maintained Road” and the gravel road turned to dirt. Pink Floyd serenaded our ascent up into the mountains.

He pulled off the road just before a bluff facing east and stopped his 4Runner. Despite the signage several miles below, the road was drivable and obviously well used. The ground around us, when he opened my door and I touched it, was littered with evidence of being frequently trodden. Shoe-prints, not made by us, were shown in the beam of his Mag flashlight. This was not a secret place in the mountains, but it felt intimate in the dark pre-morning silence. He opened the back door and reached in for a blanket and body pillow, and draped them over his arm. He took my hand with his free one and together we walked out to the bluff. His hand was warm and moist. Mine must have felt dry and cold to him.

There was an old, weathered log positioned long ago by others, and to it, he led me. He spread the blanket and pillow, half over the log and laid the rest on the ground, and assured me he wouldn't try to steal any bases.

“But, you never said anything about touching.” He sat down on the ground. “Come here,” he said, patting the pillow in front of him and held his arms out to catch me. It was barely light enough for me to see the anticipation playing in his eyes. I shrugged, took his hand and twisted myself to sit against him and face the creeping sunrise. The hemline of the horizon was bursting into colors at the tops of the mountains in front of us. He was warm and stronger than I'd imagined. He grabbed the edges of the blanket and draped it over us; his arms tightened around me, breathing the smell of me in. I wondered if I reminded him of the night at the fire. I pulled my dreads to the side and let his cheek touch mine. He nuzzled my ear, nipped the lobe, licked the curve of it before whispering, “It's not a kiss, don't worry.”

“I'm not,” I whispered back, reveling in the sensations his tongue ignited inside me.

“Good girl,” he murmured, then drew my lobe into his mouth and sucked on it. My body tightened and woke in sleeping places. My breath and heartbeat quickened. I wanted him and fought to keep my wits. His voice sounded different in a whisper, it invaded me and sent shivers through me. His hands found mine and he intertwined our fingers, rubbing the backs of my hands with his thumbs. He held us together and told me that the sunrise was calculated for a sea-level revealing; we would catch it several minutes later because of the mountain in front of us.

We sat there, wrapped up in silence and each other, and watched the day stretch itself awake. The sun came up out of the dim purple haze that had teased us for so long and quickly flowed into a pink, then orange, then pale blue-sky morning before us. It was not the most spectacular sunrise I ever saw but it was the most memorable, that's for sure. I figured as soon as the colors were gone we were done, but he held me fast with his whispers, telling me the science behind the colors of the sky and how the smog of Seattle actually contributed to their notable hues. We stayed there watching the stars fade and the morning come on like an anticipated promise until the very last bit of starlight gave up its splendor to the light of day. I hate to admit it but, like the night at the bonfire, I probably would have let him kiss me if he tried, but other than the nips at my ear and a few at my neck, he obeyed the rules. We didn't talk about what he said in the truck but I couldn't stop thinking about it. He was missing his girl, and I was the first suitable replacement he had happened upon, and I was fire. I was supposed to be the mystery to him, and there I was trying to figure him out.