nowhere (14 page)

Looking into his loving face, I made up my mind. I chose James and I chose now. I kissed him passionately while running my hands across his bare back, like I’d daydreamed about earlier. My mouth left his as I began to kiss his neck, then his shoulder, making a trail down his chest. I moved off of the rock to kneel on the ground to continue tasting him, when he stopped me.

“What are you doing?” he asked, breathing heavily.

“I’m getting to know you better,” I answered shyly. “Why, did I do something wrong?”  I fretted.

He ran his hand through his sandy colored hair. “No.” He took a shaky breath. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but the problem is that I can’t let you do what you were about to do.”
I’m confused.
He took another deep breath. Steadier this time. “I promised you, we would take things slow.”
Now I understand.
He tucked a wet curl behind my ear.

“It’s okay. I want to.” I boldly put his hand on my breast. He inhaled and quickly pulled his hand away. 

I was wrong. He hasn’t been waiting for me to give him permission
. Blinking back tears, I whispered, “I get it. You’re not interested in me like that.” I made a move to break free of his embrace. Only he tightened his hold.

Exasperated, he said, “You’re crazy, you know that?” He sighed and then gently continued. “What I’m trying to say is that while I’m dying to know what it feels like to make love to you, this is not the time or the place.” He held my face in his hand, so that I had to look at him. He was telling the truth. “You’re upset right now because you had a fight with Emma. I want you when you want me for all the right reasons.” He rubbed his thumb along my jaw and then dropped his hand.

“You think the only reason I want to be with you is so that I can forget about a fight I had with my sister?” 

“Look, Mikayla, I’m not very good with words. I care about you.” He looked up at the night sky and then back at me. “Who am I kiddin’? I’ve fallen in love with you.” He paused, letting that sink in. “I keep thinking about what you said about wanting more this time. About waiting until you’re in love before you have sex again. I’m in love with you, but are you ready to say the same about me?” I blushed. I knew I had real feelings for James, but I hadn’t put a label on them yet. Recognizing my silence as confirmation that I wasn’t ready, he continued. “It’s okay. We have lots of time.” He pulled me against his chest and kissed the top of my head.

We sat in silence for several minutes. The creek bubbled in the background. “Okay, not tonight, but soon,” I said into his bare chest. Looking into his understanding deep green eyes, I confessed, “I’m scared. The truth is I’ve never felt like this before. When we’re together my heart races and I’m afraid it’s going to explode right out of my chest. Even the slightest brush of your fingers makes my skin feel like it’s on fire.”

“I know how you feel.”

Our lips met somewhere in the middle, as if we were sealing an invisible agreement to wait until we were both ready. We kissed carefully, holding ourselves back from getting carried away. 

“It’s getting dark. We better get back, you didn’t even tell your mom we were going on a walk,” James said, pulling away.

We quickly dressed. It was a quiet walk back, but not an uncomfortable one. We were each lost in our own thoughts. By the time we exited the cornfield, the sun had set and the stars were out.

Breaking the silence, I exclaimed, “Wow, I’m still amazed by how beautiful the night sky is here in Nowhere. I love looking up at the stars. I missed out on skies like this living in San Francisco. There was too much smog and too many lights.” 

“Really? I couldn’t imagine being happy in a place where I couldn’t see the stars. When I can’t sleep, which is often, I look out my bedroom window to study them. It helps me relax. They remind me that I’m only a tiny part of the universe.”

He was quickly becoming my whole universe, but I wasn’t ready to tell him that yet. Instead a shared a different piece of my heart, “The stars remind me of my dad. When I was four years old he put glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling above my bed. At the time I was having terrible nightmares and he said that the stars would protect me. I believed him and the nightmares disappeared completely. When my dad died, the nightmares returned. They’re even worse than when I was a kid.” I shivered. “I wished I still believed star stickers would keep them away.”

“Here you have the real stars.” Squeezing my hand, he added, “And me.” 

I sighed.
Could James be any more perfect?
I knew with certainty that Emma had been wrong about him. Any remaining doubts I had, vanished. Speaking truthfully I said, “I do feel safe when I’m with you. I just wish you didn’t have to leave. If only there was a way you could stay so that I could sleep peacefully like I did that day by the pond.” We were back to where we started, standing in the driveway, facing each other.

“Hmmm,” James said thoughtfully.
Was he trying to think of a way to sneak into my room in the middle of the night?
I wondered. I’d love to have him hold me all night long, but I knew it wasn’t possible. He was only human after all, unlike Edward or Jacob from the “Twilight” series; they easily jumped up two stories to visit Bella in her bedroom at night.

“So what’s your plan?” I asked impatiently, waiting for James to explain what he was thinking.

“It’s nothing.” I raised my eyebrows, not believing him. The color of his eyes confirmed that he was hiding something, but I was confident it wasn’t anything bad.

Shaking it off, he said, “I just wish I could stay, so you could sleep.” He lightly brushed a curl away from my eyes.

Pulling me close, he kissed me like never before. He didn’t hold back, and neither did I. My heart grew twice its size inside my chest. I knew without a doubt it belonged to James.

Moments later when he left, I stood rooted to the spot, calling out into the night what I hadn’t been ready to say in the woods, “I love you, James.”

Dooner

Sweat ran down my back, soaking my T-shirt. My hair was so wet it looked like I’d just stepped out of the shower. It was only nine o’clock in the morning, but already it was a scorcher. Tyler and I had been throwing passes and running drills for an hour, trying to prove that we meant business. The rest of the team would be here soon.

Our plan had been going well so far. We were perfecting our passing patterns, like the square-out, the hook, and the fly. Tyler’s arm was getting stronger; he was throwing the ball further and with greater accuracy. I, of course, had been catching them all. Casey met us every morning to play safety. He was a good blocker, but I was fast. Also I had the uncanny ability to be able to anticipate where Tyler was going to throw the ball. I always managed to get there just as the ball came down, landing in my outstretched hands. It was as if we could read other’s minds. 

Since today was Saturday, Tyler and I were on our own, running through drills that didn’t necessarily require a blocker. Tyler was working on his bullet throw, using his arm strength to fire the ball. He’d throw the ball and I’d run, cutting sharply across the field toward the sideline. Once the ball was safe in my hands I’d step out of bounds to stop the clock, completing the square-out pattern. This was an excellent strategy in order to complete a first down. We did this over and over again. 

In the background, I thought I heard someone climb the bleachers, but I didn’t let it break my concentration. Like the ten times before, I rolled my shoulder toward the inside and cut quickly to the sideline. Catching the ball, I stepped out of bounds. It was a perfect play.  At the same time, Tyler and I looked up to see who was watching us. It was Coach. We could only hope this was a good sign. We finished up and went inside to meet the rest of the boys. Coach left without saying a word.

Jogging in, I commented, “I think we can cross ‘square-out’ off our list of passing patterns. We nailed it.”

“Yeah, man. I was in the zone just now.” Growing more serious, he said, “I just wish Coach would hurry up and put us back in the starting line-up. He must’ve seen how well we connected today.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he did. I think he’s going to make us sweat it out a little longer. He’s going to make us work hard for a second chance. We just have to keep doing what we’ve been doing. He’ll come around. It may not be until the last minute before the game begins, but he will.” I put my complete faith in Coach recognizing the value we brought to the team. What other choice did I have?

“I hope you’re right,” Tyler stated.

Me too.

Coach was sitting in his office, staring at his playbook, when we passed by on our way into the locker room. He glanced in our direction, giving us the briefest of smiles. It wasn’t much encouragement, but it was a start.

I pushed open the locker room door, while Tyler walked on. He headed toward the gym with a different agenda in mind. I was willing to bet he was meeting Liz in the ‘secret make-out corner’—a small area that was blocked by the bleachers—although that was a misnomer because students did a lot more than just make out. She was probably running her red fingernails down his chest right now, I chuckled to myself thinking they deserved each other. 

It was loud in the locker room as the guys joked around while getting on their gear.  Unfortunately, most of them were still pissed about the suicides, but they were beginning to come around. Like Coach, they could see that Tyler and I worked out our differences. Also they knew they needed us to have another undefeated season. 

“Heya, Dooner,” Ray said, grabbing his helmet.

“Hey,” I responded, quickly grabbing my helmet too. “Alright if I walk with you?” I asked. I didn’t think Ray would mind; he wasn’t one to hold a grudge. 

“Sure.” He nodded.

Doing my part to make amends, I said, “You made a great play yesterday. You closed the gap on the runner in record time. What’s your time for the 40?”

“I run the 40 in 6.21 seconds,” he said modestly.

“Wow, man, that’s great. We should come up with a defensive strategy to capitalize on your speed and strength.” I wanted the team to know they mattered.

“Cool.” Ray grinned proudly.

During the entire practice I could feel Coach’s eyes on me—watching, waiting. I made sure I didn’t screw up. I caught every pass that Tyler threw me. I encouraged the guys and helped them work on their game. By the time practice ended, I was feeling optimistic.

I hurried home and was whistling a Tim McGraw song when the kitchen door closed behind me. My mom was standing at the sink, drying dishes while my dad sat eating a huge slice of rhubarb pie. The house was quiet. For once, my dad wasn’t yelling or cursing.

“Hey,” I said, acknowledging them both.

“Hi, Sweetie,” my mom said, placing a plate in the cupboard.

My dad simply grunted. We hadn’t said more than two words to each other since the big blowup. I had nothing to say to him.

Turning quickly, I grabbed a cold Gatorade out of the refrigerator. I took a long sip as I continued to stare inside, avoiding eye contact. I’d been trying to keep a low profile. “What’s for lunch? I’m starving.”

“I made you a couple of tuna fish sandwiches,” my mom answered, smiling. “They’re in the container with the blue lid on the top shelf.”

“Thanks, mom.” I pulled it out and joined my dad at the table.

I wasn’t going to be the one to break the ice. I didn’t mind eating my lunch in silence; I preferred it. I kept my eyes down on my plate, hoping to avoid another confrontation.

“How was practice today, honey?” my mom asked.

Great, here we go.
“Good,” I answered, saying as little as possible.

“What does that mean?” my dad asked speaking to me for the first time in days.

“It means that practice was good.”

“Did Coach finally smarten up and put you back in the game?”

I didn’t like it when he spoke poorly of Coach. He was only doing what he thought was right. “No.”

“Well, why the hell not?”

No matter what I said, it would be the wrong thing. Choosing my words carefully, I said, “He did see Tyler and me working on our passing game before practice today.”

“What do you mean, your passing game?”

“We’ve been working every day before practice to perfect some new plays this season.  We want to throw the ball, not just run it like all the other high school teams around here. Tyler has a strong arm and I’m able to catch anything. We want to show Coach that we can take the team to a whole new level.” I didn’t know why I told him all that, but I guess on some level I was still looking for my old man’s approval.

“Tell me more,” my dad said, leaning in closer. “Can you catch the ball even when you got a man blocking you?” I nodded. “I hope I won’t see any interceptions or fumbles this year.”

“I’m not going to fumble the ball,” I said with anger. I was a better player than that. I hadn’t fumbled once since playing varsity.

“That’s my boy. Keep it up and Coach will have no choice but to play you.” This was the most praise I’d receive from my dad. He wasn’t one to hand out compliments.

“That’s the plan,” I confirmed.

““Now, Martha, get me another piece, would you? All this football talk has made me hungry. Give the boy a piece too, to keep his strength up.”

My mom gladly placed a piece of pie in front of each of us. I knew it made her happy that my dad and I actually were talking again and even managed to have a civil conversation. The pie tasted great, practically melting in my mouth. “This is really good, Mom.”

“Thanks.” She smiled.

I quickly finished eating and placed the dirty plate in the sink. I had plans with Mikayla. With my stomach full, I was ready to leave. I grabbed my keys off the hook hanging by the back door. Looking over my shoulder I said, “Bye. I’ll see you guys later. Thanks for the lunch, Mom. And the pie.” I was anxious to leave while everyone was in a good mood.

“Hey, where you off to, son? More football practice? Do you and your buddies have plans to watch the videos from last year of the other teams?” my dad questioned, hopefully.