Authors: Amelia Whitmore
“I knew you were going to be here, but it’s still a surprise
to see you,” he says with a large smile.
I’ve got a smile on my face, but I’m feeling a little put
off by what she said just a few seconds before.
I knew you had a girlfriend,
but I didn’t expect this
. . . What did that mean? And
girlfriend? What was he telling people?
They turn their attention to me and he introduces us.
“Ashley, this is my friend Anna. Anna, this is Ash.” I wave a tiny bit, feeling
awkward.
“It’s so nice to meet you.” She beams brightly. “I never
expected Brayden to end up with somebody who actually looks healthy. He’s
always with these skeleton skinny girls. Actually, most of them are like me.” she
says, pointing at her own body. She’s tall, but as tiny as my pinky. I’m
worried she’ll fall through the cracks if she ever sets foot on a wooden porch.
“It’s so frustrating—no matter how much I eat, I can’t get any curves. You’re
so lucky!”
I have to smile, despite just being told that Brayden goes
for the Barbie girls not “curvy” girls like me. “Well, it definitely isn’t on
purpose, but thank you.” I blush.
“Sure. It’s about time Bray started thinking with his brain
instead of his di—” She’s cut off by Brayden clamping his hand over her mouth.
“Let’s go sit down, Anna,” he coughs. I smile brightly when
I see that he’s actually blushing. Brayden. Blushing. I never thought I’d see
it. It’s not one of those adorable little blushes he usually has. This one is
bright red and all the way up to his ears, like the way I normally blush. It’s
adorable.
“Okay.” I smile softly, taking the hand he’s holding out to
me. Before we sit, Brayden sets Zander down and the little one is immediately
off with his airplane.
Brayden leans in and whispers to me, “Sorry about Ashley,
she’s pretty outspoken. Sweet, normally, but she’s really not afraid to speak
her mind. She’s a lot like Ro, actually.”
I grin. “Then I’ll probably like her.”
“I’m also sorry for that comment about the girls I’ve dated
in the past.” He gulps and I watch his Adam’s apple bob.
I give him a half smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing
that I didn’t already assume.”
His eyes narrow just a little bit, like they always do when
I’m being pessimistic. “Why did you assume that?”
I roll my eyes. “Come on, Brayden. You’re tall, muscular, handsome.
It’s pretty safe to assume that the quarterback dated the cheerleader.”
He seems pouty at this. With his arms crossed and a petulant
look on his face, he huffs, “For the record, it was soccer.” As though that
makes such a big difference.
I laugh and shake my head. “It’s not something to be
embarrassed about.”
“I just don’t like that you see me as some superficial jock
or something,” he grumbles. He honestly looks really upset about it.
I take his hand and hold it in mine, a first for me.
“I don’t look at you like that, Brayden. I’m sorry, I know
that’s how it sounded, but I know you’re not superficial. I know that you have
substance and there’s way more to you than meets the eye,” I tell him
earnestly.
He looks into my eyes carefully. “Do you really?”
I nod, “Absolutely. There’s never been a doubt in my mind.” I
pause. “Okay, well sometimes I have my doubts, but that’s just me being me,” I
explain. “You know why I’m paranoid. But I’ve always known that you were a good
person.”
We exchange a long look until we’re interrupted by Adrienne
speaking to me. “Oh, Anna. I didn’t even notice you guys were here. How are
you, dear?”
I smile at her. “I’m pretty great right now, how are you?” I
ask politely.
“Pretty great myself,” she laughs.
I turn to Paul. “Good evening, Mr. Carter,” I say with a polite
but genuine smile.
He chuckles. “Really, Anna, call me Paul.” I smile and nod.
When Brayden’s thumb begins making circles on my palm, I
realize that I’m still holding his hand in mine. I smile at him and he returns
it with his signature grin that makes me weak in the knees. I wonder if he
knows just what that smile does to me. His smirk afterward tells me he does.
Soon enough, dinner comes out, and shortly after they begin
the auction. Paul buys a beautiful painting, courtesy of Sarah Sampson, room
405, age six. It was an incredible idea. They had the sick children paint
canvases to sell and all the profits go to the children’s ward of the hospital.
Sarah has a definite future in art. Her painting of swirling colors, all mixing
to create an interesting shade of brown, with two small hand prints on it, got
the hospital nearly $3,000. It was well worth it.
Then, before I know it, Brayden is literally forcing me onto
the dance floor. “Brayden, stop!” I complain, tugging lightly against his hold
on my wrist. “I can’t dance!”
“Everybody can dance,” he assures me, stopping in the middle
of the dance floor.
“No, not everybody. I really, really can’t.
He laughs. “Come on, you have to dance just a little. What
did you do at all your school dances in the past?”
I bite my lip and look around the room, avoiding the
question.
“Anna,” he deadpans.
I sigh. “I’ve never been to a school dance,” I murmur
quietly, hoping he didn’t hear.
“You what?” he asks loudly. “How can you never have been to
a dance?” He sounds appalled.
“It’s not a big deal,” I argue defensively.
He sets his hands on my waist and pulls me closer until
there’s barely an inch between us. “Oh, it’s a big deal. You, Anna Holden, are
learning how to dance. Right here. Right now,” he insists.
“Brayden,” I whine.
“No arguments,” he demands. “Now, move just a little bit,
side to side,” he says, gently nudging my body from left to right.
I feel like I’m the Tin Man or something. Apparently Brayden
agrees because he starts chuckling at me.
“Loosen up a little bit. Move your hips as you make each
movement.”
I sigh and place my hands on his shoulders before doing as
he says. The actions, surprisingly, feel more natural than I had suspected they
would. I find myself swaying easily with him.
“See, it’s not so bad. Now start moving slowly in a circle. Follow
the direction of my hand on your back. Listen to the pressure,” he whispers in
my ear as he takes one of my hands from his shoulder and holds it out, then moves
his other arm to the middle of my back.
Once we’ve been dancing for a few minutes, I start laughing
a little bit. He looks down at me curiously and I explain, “It feels so weird
to actually be dancing. Like a fairy tale,” I finish with a murmur. He grins at
me and suddenly pulls me even closer, so that our bodies are pressed together. I
tense up for a moment, but quickly realize that I actually don’t mind. I lean
my head down and rest it on his shoulder, feeling more comfortable in his arms
than I had anywhere in a long time.
His lips are near my ear when he whispers, “Thanks for
coming with me tonight.”
I glance up at him. “Thanks for asking me.”
For the rest of the next two dances, both luckily slow
songs, we stay exactly how we are. Then, a faster song starts and suddenly
we’re both laughing, acting like crazy people. He takes my hand and spins me
around a few times, making me so dizzy that I have to steady myself against his
body. Surprisingly, I just let loose, not caring who thinks I’m a freak for how
I dance. For the first time in my entire life, I just simply don’t care about
anybody but myself. Well, and Brayden. But he seems just as crazy as me.
At the end of the night, we’re walking out of the building
with our combined hands swinging between us. As soon as we step outside, I
start spinning around. The first snowfall of the season is here. Since it’s
only November, it won’t stick, but there’s something simply magical about the
first few flakes every year. I’m giggling like a child with my tongue sticking
out and my arms flying out as I twist.
“Snow, Brayden!”
I look over at him with a huge smile on my face. He’s got
his hands in his pants pockets, just watching me with a serene expression. “Come
over here!” I demand playfully, reaching my hands out for his. He chuckles and
meets me, placing his warm hands in my cold ones, and we spin together. We spin
faster and faster until I’m sure one of us is going to slip and, when that
person is about to be me, Brayden pulls me to his chest before I fall.
There’s a moment, when I look into his eyes, where the world
just stops around us. There’s only me and him. Everything else just disappears.
The next thing I know, he’s leaning down and I’m reaching up and we meet in the
middle for the most perfect kiss I could ever imagine. It’s just like in a
movie, where the audience sighs and time becomes insignificant.
His lips are so warm against mine. I’ve only been kissed
once, the other night by this same boy, but it was so different then. The
butterflies weren’t there last time and his arms weren’t holding me so close. Before,
I was crying and scared and his kiss was comfort and acceptance. Now, I don’t
know if I’ve ever been so happy. He makes me feel invincible; like as long as
I’m in his arms, nothing can hurt me. This kiss is magic.
When he slowly pulls away, it’s still sooner than I would’ve
preferred, and I have to blink a few times and take a deep breath to come back
to earth. Panic clouds my sunny feelings.
“Oh god,” I whisper, touching my lips with my fingers.
They don’t feel any different, but I feel as though I’ve
morphed into a whole new person.
“I’m sorry,” Brayden says quickly, stepping back but not
quite letting me go.
I look up to his eyes. “Why are you sorry?” I ask, confused.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just—it was the moment,” he
rambles.
Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “You have nothing to
apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. That was . . . I’m
not . . . and you’re so . . . ugh! I
just can’t . . .” I feel tears rising in my eyes. I’m so
frustrated with myself. Why am I panicking? Brayden is perfect and he likes me,
so why can’t I just be happy?
Brayden’s hands move to my cheeks as he places a kiss on my
forehead. “Hey, hey, calm down, Annie. Everything is fine.”
“I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to comfort me after a kiss
like that. I should be floating on cloud nine right now, but I think too much
and now I’m ruining it for both of us.” At this, Brayden laughs.
“You know, I wouldn’t expect any less.” His gentle eyes tell
me I haven’t ruined anything.
I bite my bottom lip as a shaky smile takes over my face.
“Shut up,” I grumble halfheartedly.
“Come on, we’ll talk in the car while I drive you home,” he
says, guiding me to the truck. Once we’re on the road, I glance over at him.
Deciding to be completely and totally honest, I just start
spewing out my feelings. “I want to be more than friends with you, but the
thought of that scares me. No, it terrifies me. I can’t imagine myself with you
because you’re seriously the greatest guy I’ve ever met. You make me forget
about everything and I can really be myself around you, but it seems too good
to be true. I feel like I don’t deserve that. But on the other hand, for the
same reasons, I can see myself with you. I mean, in a parallel universe where
I’m super lucky and happy and stuff.”
A small smile appears on my lips as I think of all the other
reasons I want to be with him. I continue, “I can see us really sending out
that Christmas card together, and hearing my entire family make a huge deal out
of why we sent such a ridiculous picture of ourselves. I see myself dancing
with you, like actually going somewhere with the intention of dancing. I’ve
never really imagined myself with anyone like that. And I feel like a total
stalker freak since we only just met a few weeks ago.
“Which leads me back to why we shouldn’t be together. I’m
annoyingly insecure, just ask Ro. It’s obnoxious how doubtful I am of everybody
around me. Total paranoia. Did you know that when Ro gave you my number that
day at the Fall Fest, I yelled at her and suggested that she was trying to hurt
me by doing it? I seriously thought that the best friend I’ve ever had was out
to get me. Just trying to have a laugh at my expense by teasing me with someone
as beautiful as you. So I’m not just insecure about a person I might be dating,
but about everything in general.
“And you don’t deserve that. You deserve someone who can be
comfortable with you, who can do things like kiss you in the snow without
freaking out. I want you to be happy and I think that eventually, after enough
babying me, you’ll get tired of it and walk away. Or I’ll just hurt you
somehow, like by being dramatically insecure and breaking up with you at the
drop of a hat. ’Cause I’d probably do that, just to make sure you didn’t break
up with me first.” I’m nearly crying by the end of my rant.
When I turn to look at Brayden, he’s staring silently and
thoughtfully down the road. I bite my lip to keep from talking, knowing that if
I say one more thing, I’ll probably never stop. Eventually, we pull up my
driveway and he puts the truck in park before turning to me.
“What if we just stay exactly how we are right now?” I’m
confused but he elaborates. “I mean, not quite friends with benefits, but more
like friends with feelings? That way, we can both still do what makes us happy
with each other. We can continue having feelings for each other but there’s
technically no relationship—nothing intimidating. I mean, we’d basically be in
a relationship, like in terms of monogamy, but it’s like warming up before you
work out. Just something gentle but fun to get you ready for the actual thing.”
I give it a few seconds. “Friends with feelings? Like dating
without being boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Yep. And if one of us, mainly me, crosses a line that the
other person’s not ready for, we can just be honest,” he assures me.