Authors: Allie Everhart
"So how are things going with you two?" I take a seat on the stool next to the breakfast bar.
"Great," she says, then takes a sip of her juice. "He took me to a really nice restaurant last night, which was sweet because I know he's short on cash right now."
"Why'd he take you there? Just because?"
"He was really impressed that I went to all that work to make him dinner so he wanted to do something nice back." She gets out a bowl and a spoon. "But honestly, the dinner wasn't that hard."
"You almost burnt our kitchen down," I remind her.
She shrugs as she gets the milk from the fridge. "Only because I don't know how to use the stove. I'm not used to gas. I grew up with electric."
"What else happened? You were with him for almost the entire weekend. What else did you do?"
"Went to another movie, then hung out at his friend's place and had some drinks." She grabs a box of cereal from the cupboard and fills her bowl, then drowns it in milk. She uses way too much milk. I only use a little. Too much milk makes the cereal soggy. "His friend is a lawyer downtown. He has this really cool loft apartment. Matt didn't like it. He said it was too industrial. But I loved it. Someday I want to live in a place like that." She shoves a big spoonful of cereal in her mouth. "How about you and Austin? What'd you guys do?"
"Had sex," I say casually, then I laugh because I know she's going to overreact.
"What?" Her spoon drops in her bowl, splattering milk everywhere. She was standing across from me at the counter, but she races around it and comes up next to me. "You had sex with Austin?"
"Yes," I say calmly.
"And?" She shoves my shoulder. "Details, Kira! Details!"
"It was the best sex I ever had." I'm still smiling, beaming, as I remember last night.
She's staring at me, not speaking.
"What?" I say. "What is it?"
"You're not joking with me, are you? You really did it with him?"
"Yes. Multiple times."
Her eyes widen. "Like how many?"
"I don't know. I lost track."
Her eyes widen even more. "Kira! You just met him!"
"I know."
"You slut!" She laughs and slaps my arm.
"Hey!" I say, also laughing. "Don't call me that."
"Sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm just surprised because you're usually so..."
"Cautious?"
"Yeah. You usually wait months before doing it."
"That's not true. I only waited three weeks with Dean."
"And then he dumped you. Which is why you said you'd wait longer next time."
"True, but I didn't want to wait with Austin. And it's not like we've only gone out on a few dates. We spent almost all of last week together. That's equivalent to at least ten dates, maybe more."
"Even so, I'm still shocked." She goes back around the counter to her cereal. "You never move this fast. You must really like him."
"I do. He's sweet and kind and considerate. Even with strangers. I didn't even tell you about the old man."
"What old man?" she asks, munching on her cereal.
"Austin saw this old man fall off a ladder and he pulled over and helped him. We ended up being there the whole afternoon. Austin cut tree branches and I hauled them to the street. Anyway, enough about me. Back to you and Matt. So...was it any better?"
"The sex?" She gulps down some juice, then says, "Not really. But I've decided I'm not going to worry about it. There's more to a relationship than just sex." She looks down at her bowl, moving her cereal around with her spoon.
"Amber, you can't honestly tell me this doesn't bother you."
She sighs. "Yeah, it bothers me, but I only feel this way because I'm being stupid and comparing Matt to..." She sighs again. "Never mind."
"Dylan," I say completing her thought. "You're comparing him to Dylan."
"I didn't say that."
"But it's what you meant."
She takes her cereal bowl to the sink, her back to me.
"He wrote a song about you," I say.
There's a loud clatter as the bowl and spoon drop from her hand and hit the sink.
Her back is still to me. "What did you say?"
"I said he wrote a song about you. Dylan wrote a song about you."
She whips around. "What are you talking about? Dylan did not write a song about me."
"He did. And he performed it last night. It was only the second time he'd sang it. The first time was last Saturday after we left. If we'd stayed, you could've heard it."
She's staring at me in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? You have to be. Because there's no way Dylan would do that. He probably doesn't even remember me." She walks into the living room.
I follow her. "Amber, I'm not kidding. Dylan really did write a song about you."
She looks at me. "So it was ABOUT me, not FOR me."
I stop to think of the difference, then say, "I think it was both. I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you this but Austin said Dylan wrote that song because he was hoping you'd hear it."
"Why?" She sounds breathless, almost nervous. "What does he want?"
"For you to come back. He wants you back."
"How do you know that?"
"Because it's in the song. The lyrics said that you left and that he wants you back."
Her jaw drops, then she slowly closes it and shakes her head. "No. You must've heard him wrong. Or maybe he was talking about someone else. I'm sure he's had a lot of one-night stands." She goes to the couch and sits down.
"Amber it was
you
." I go and sit next to her. "It was just how you described that night. The song said he saw you across the room and that he just knew. He said words weren't needed. He said you spent a night together and when he woke up, you were gone. And he wants you back."
She's staring straight ahead, chewing on her thumbnail.
"Amber, are you okay?"
She turns to me. "What did Austin say?"
"What do you mean?"
"When you told him it was me, what did he say?"
"I didn't tell him."
"You didn't?"
"No. I thought you didn't want me to."
"I don't, but I didn't think you'd keep a secret like that from him, especially now, after you slept with him."
"It's not my secret to tell. It's your's."
"Yeah, but Dylan and Austin are friends. I just thought—"
"You and I are friends too, and you told me you didn't want anyone to know. And besides, you need to talk to Dylan before I tell Austin this. I wouldn't want him saying something to Dylan before you have a chance to talk to him."
She shakes her head really fast. "I'm not talking to Dylan."
"Why not?"
She sighs. "We've already talked about this. It was one night. That's all it was ever supposed to be. Nothing more."
"But he
wants
more. He wants to go out with you."
"Well, it's not going to happen. I have a boyfriend."
"Who you have no chemistry with."
"That is not true," she says emphatically. "We have plenty of chemistry."
"Then why does your sex life suck?"
"It doesn't suck. It's just not great. And it doesn't have to be. Matt is a nice guy and he does nice things for me. He's smart. He's mature. He has a good job. He's a good boyfriend."
"Who you have no chemistry with," I say again. "You had chemistry with Dylan."
"Yeah. But that's all we had. Chemistry. A relationship has to be more than that."
"You don't know what a relationship with Dylan would be like until you try it."
She bursts up from the couch. "For the last time, I am not dating Dylan. We had a perfect, amazing, romantic night with sizzling hot sex and I'm not going to ruin the memory of that by dating him."
I stand in front of her. "You know how crazy you sound? You're being completely unreasonable. And irrational."
She turns her back to me. "I don't care. I'm not dating him."
I go around to face her. "Then at least talk to him. He's been thinking about you ever since that night. He's been looking for you. He wrote a freaking song to get you back. If you're not interested, then at least tell him that so he can move on."
"I don't want to see him again."
"Really? Because I think you do. When you saw him on stage that night, your whole face lit up, a lot more than it does when you see Matt."
She rolls her eyes. "You're exaggerating."
"No, I'm not. I know you, Amber, and I can tell when you really like a guy, and I've never seen you like a guy as much as Dylan."
She throws her hands up. "Because it's a fantasy. It's not real. Matt is real."
"But he doesn't excite you. You're not excited when you talk about him, or when he comes over, or when you've just spent the night with him. I mean, just now, after being with Matt, you walked in here like a zombie, with no energy."
"Because I'm tired. I need coffee." She goes to the kitchen and yanks the machine out from under the cabinet.
"You wouldn't need coffee to be excited about Dylan. You should've seen your face when I told you he wrote a song about you. In fact, this entire time we've been talking about him, you've had more energy. You perked up as soon as I said his name, and then I mentioned Matt and your shoulders sagged."
She scoops coffee grounds into the filter. "You're just making this up because you don't like Matt."
"I like Matt. There's nothing wrong with him. He's just not the right guy for you."
She pours water in the coffee pot, then turns to me, leaning against the counter. "So what are you doing today? Want to go to a movie?"
I guess she's done talking about Dylan. She's so frustrating. She had this great night with a hot guy who really wants to date her and who I know she secretly wants to see again, and yet she refuses to even talk to him. She's always been like this. She denies herself the stuff she really wants. I don't know why.
"I can't," I say. "Austin's picking me up and we're going to his house for a Labor Day cookout. His dad's grilling burgers. I could call him and see if you could come along. Or are you meeting up with Matt later?"
"He has to work at the suit shop. They're having some big Labor Day sale and they needed extra help."
"Then come with me to Austin's house."
"I think I'll just stay here and hang out. This may be my last chance to veg out in front of the TV for a while. I have stuff going on every night next week. I think I'm in too many activities."
"I keep telling you that but you don't listen."
"Come sit down and have coffee with me. I want to hear more about last night." She smiles. "You didn't give me enough details."
"I'm not giving you details. I told you all that I'm telling you."
"You didn't tell me anything."
"I told you we did it. That's all you need to know." I walk off. "I gotta go."
"Where are you going?" she yells.
"Outside," I call back from my room. "I want to get a walk in before Austin gets here."
It's not a walk. It's a run. I need to train today, but since the gym is closed, I'm stuck doing a run, but I'll stop and do some pushups and tricep dips along the way.
"I could go with you," I hear Amber say.
"I think you need the coffee more than the walk," I say, returning to the kitchen with my laptop. Someone recorded Dylan's song last night and I found the video and had it cued up and ready to go in case Amber didn't believe me. She's sitting at the breakfast bar. I set the laptop in front of her. "Here. Watch this."
"What it is?" she asks as I go back to my room.
"Your song," I call back, then close my door. She needs to watch that and hear for herself the emotion in Dylan's voice when he sang that song. I didn't mention that when I told her about it because I knew I wouldn't be able to describe it. She needs to hear it herself.
I take extra long to change into my running clothes, giving her time to watch the video more than once. When I go back to the kitchen, she's staring straight ahead at the wall. I go over and notice she's closed the website that had the video.
"You okay?" I ask, moving my laptop aside.
She slowly nods. "Yeah."
"You want to talk about it?"
"No," she says quietly.
We can talk later. Right now, she needs time to process this. Seeing that video made it real. She could see Dylan and hear his voice, and she could listen to the lyrics he wrote. That's a lot more real than me telling her about it.
"I'll see you later." I take my laptop back to my room and sit on my bed and check my email. I don't use email much, but my parents do and they get mad when I don't check it. There's nothing there except junk mail, but then an email pops up from my former gymnastics coach. It's her e-newsletter that goes out once a month and talks about what's new in the world of gymnastics, what competitions are coming up, health and fitness tips. It's a mix of topics. This month it's all about Talia, a student of hers who is quickly rising to the top. She's only 14 and already winning competitions. I'm happy for her, but also jealous. I want so badly to be her, training for hours a day, preparing for competitions. That used to be my life and I loved it and miss it more than anything.
I click back to my desktop on the file that has my old gymnastics videos. I labeled the file 'funny cats' so if my mom ever snooped around on my laptop, she'd think it was cat videos. I even re-labeled the videos with cat names.
She doesn't want me watching the videos. She thinks it's bad for me. That I'm reliving the past instead of looking forward. We had a big fight about it so I told her I took the videos off my computer, but they're still here, hidden under a cat alias.
I click on the first video. It was filmed when I was 17. I'm on the balance beam, my movements smooth and fluid as I flip in the air. I feel myself breathing in and out with each move, the way I would if I were performing that routine right now. Watching it seems so real. Like I'm actually there doing it. I can still feel the movements my body would make, feel my breath change as I flip in the air, my muscles clench as I hold the pose.
The video ends and I click on another. And then another, my eyes glued to the screen as I imagine myself there again, doing what I love. I'm jolted back to reality by the sound of the bathroom door shutting and then the shower turning on. I check the clock. It's after ten. I need to do my run. I close my laptop and grab my keys and go.