Our Song (3 page)

“Okay then. I’m going to knock out…this one.” As he is reaching the hammer toward the block, I know I have this in the bag. I try REALLY hard not to start grinning before he’s even started hammering. But he’s no longer paying me any attention, as all his focus is on the block. He lightly taps it once, trying to see if he can do it without making the other blocks around it fall out. When nothing else happens to the blocks it’s touching except that one block moving down a millionth of an inch, he smiles, and starts tapping a little harder.

What he didn’t notice was that a block on the other side of the board also started slipping down. And I watch that other block while he is tapping his…and before he can even get his block out, the other block drops to the table, and the whole game crashes down after it. He stares at the table in horror. “Wha—how? What just happened?”

“You just lost a very big wager to the queen of Don’t Break the Ice, that’s what happened.”

He looks back up at me, and his face changes from horror to indignation.

“You mean to tell me that you are some sort of genius at playing this game? And you let me believe that you didn’t have a clue what you were doing?”

“Asher, I have been playing this game since I was old enough to hold that plastic hammer. You probably have too, but you also probably stopped playing it when you felt like you were too old to play a baby game like this. I, however, never stopped playing it, and discovered a few key secrets to almost always win the game. I have won almost every game of Don’t Break the Ice I’ve played since I was eight. My family has been playing me for years, trying to find ways to beat me. And yes, I let you believe I didn’t know what I was doing…at first it was because I didn’t want you to think I was some sort of weirdo who still plays games a three-year-old would. But then, when you offered that little wager, I decided not to let on, because I wanted to win.”

Asher shakes his head, but there is a smile on his face. “My dear, sweet Becca. Who knew you were so competitive?”

“You did. We’ve played chess tons of times. Ever since chess tournaments started when we were in fourth grade. At school, during church lock-ins…we’ve just never wagered anything over it before.”

“Touché. Well, what do you say we change this wager up a bit—extend it if you will. Rather than this one game deciding our entire vacation, each game we play, the winner gets ONE thing; one meal cooked for them, choosing an activity, one load of laundry…” He’s got a Cheshire cat’s grin going now. “You get what I mean. But I think we need a set of House Rules for this week. I was previously unaware of your prowess in the Don’t Break the Ice area, so rule number one to this new wager: we tell the truth.” Asher holds up one finger. “No lies, and no cheating. Rule number two”—the second finger goes up—“we only play each game once. Rule number three, the loser of the previous game gets to choose the next game. I think that about covers it. Wha’dya say, Becca? Do we have a deal?”

I like this new idea. But I think over each of the rules he’s come up with, making sure they don’t need to be changed, and trying to think of any other rules we may need. “I think we need to add one more rule, and then I will agree to your conditions of the wager.”

“And what would that rule be?”

“Before each game, we tell each other what we want if we win. I know we didn’t do that for this game, but in the future, I think it’s only fair we know what we will be getting ourselves into if we lose.”

Asher looks at me for a moment, with his hand under his chin, tapping his lips like he really needs to think about this. “Alright, if you’re willing to agree to my terms, I think I can handle this one request from you. You’re on. Should we shake on it?”

I smile. This is something we’ve done before every single game of chess we’ve ever played, shaking hands. But before I’ll shake on it, I have one more thing to add. “I think we should write down the House Rules of this gambling den we’ve created, and sign them before shaking on it.”

I grab the notepad and pen that are always stored in the drawer of the coffee table, and write out our rules:

HOUSE RULES

1. Only the truth shall be told: No lying. No cheating.

2. Each game may only be played once.

3. The loser of each game chooses the next game.

4. Before each game starts, each player states what they want if they win. The winner of each game gets ONE thing.

By signing below, each player agrees to follow the House Rules for the course of the entire week.

I look over what I’ve written, making sure I haven’t left anything out. It looks good to me. I sign the rules and turn the sheet around to face Asher.

“Where do I sign?” he asks.

“Anywhere you’d like.”

“Can I sign here?” He holds my hand, palm up, and points to my palm.

I’m not sure what to say. I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks, since I missed church while being at volleyball camp, but I am wondering what has changed for him while I was gone. I decide to brush it off. “Ha ha. Very funny, Asher. You have to sign the rules in order for it to be binding.”

“But your palm is currently below the statement that says ‘By signing below…’”

“But it won’t be below that statement for the entirety of our vacation, and therefore you would be able to say that you didn’t agree to the rules.”

He lets go of my hand, and throws his hands up into the air, signaling his innocence. “Alright, alright. I’ll sign where you want me to.” He takes the pen from the table and signs his name under mine. “Let the games begin.”

-----

Asher

This is definitely going to be an interesting week. But what’s making me the most happy right now is the fact that Becca has been smiling and laughing this whole time. And although I would truly be willing to do whatever it is that she wants for the entire week, our new deal gives me the perfect excuse to keep Becca playing games and talking to me.

“I suppose we should clean this up,” I suggest, trying to keep her in the room a little longer.

“I can take care of it. You go on ahead and do whatever you were planning on doing before we started this game.”

“Becca, stop.”

She pauses, hands held mid-air, and looks up at me.

“What I was planning on doing was spending time with you. So let me help you clean all of this up, and then we can decide what to do next together.”

“Oh. O-Okay.” Instantly I can see Becca putting her wall back up around her. I wish I knew how to talk to her, to let her know that I’m here for her. That she’s still my best friend, no matter what happened last year.

It seemed like she was able to open up a little bit while we were playing, and if I’m able to win any of the games we play, maybe my prize can be some answers about what happened between her and Trip, and why she’s still been kind of distant since they broke up.

Speaking of questions I have for her, I wonder what she’ll choose to do for her first win…

Chapter Three

Becca

As I’m putting the game board back on the shelf, I take a deep breath, then say while I’m still facing away from Asher, “Now that I only get to choose one thing, rather than choosing for the whole week, I’ve decided what I want for winning our first game.” There, I said it.

When Asher doesn’t immediately respond, I turn back around to face him. He looks a little worried. But he shouldn’t be. “What would you like as your prize?”

“You are going to take me into my favorite spot in town. It will take us about twenty minutes to drive there, but it’s totally worth it. I promise.”

The worry leaves his face, but he still looks a little skeptical. “And where exactly am I taking you? The House Rules clearly state that you have to tell me.”

I sigh. I want it to be a bit of a surprise. And I think I know exactly how I can get around this rule. “You are taking me to Rush.”

“And what exactly is Rush?”

I can’t help but grin, knowing this is going to drive him crazy. “Ah, ah, ah! The rules only say I have to tell you what I want, which is for you to take me to Rush. They don’t state that I have to explain it if you don’t know what it is.”

A sound somewhere between a laugh and a grunt comes out of his mouth, while he shakes his head. “Well, if that’s how you want to play the game…”

“I do.”

“Then you’d better be prepared for an all-out war.”

***

I make Asher drive us to town in his parents’ car. The reason is two-fold. Number one: I don’t want to drive my parents mini-van around if I don’t have to. Number two: I won fair and square, and my request was for
him
to take
me
. I direct him from the lake into town, and have him pull into the diagonal parking spaces in front of Rush. The sun is glaring off the windows of the shop, so Asher still can’t really see what it is.

Before I can even get my seatbelt unbuckled, Asher has turned off the car, gotten out, and run around the front end to open my door. This surprises me. It’s not that Asher isn’t an all-around nice guy, because he is. But I’ve never seen him so enthusiastic about doing something as simple as opening a car door for me. As I unbuckle myself, Asher reaches his hand into the car to help me out. I’m not exactly sure what all this behavior is leading to, but I decide to just go with it. I grab his hand, and get out of the car. Asher shuts my door for me, but doesn’t let go of my hand.

“So, seriously, what is this place?” he asks, trying to shield his eyes from the glare with his free hand.

“You’ll see when we get inside. I promise you’ll like it.”

Since Asher is still holding my hand, I drag him up to the door. As I pull it open, the old-school
ding
goes off, and it makes me smile. I have been to Rush what feels like a million times over the course of my life, and yet I could never get tired of coming here. I take a deep breath in through my nose. It always smells heavenly in here—a mix of chocolate and pure sugar.

“It’s a candy store…like a real, old-time candy store! When you told me I was taking you somewhere called Rush, I couldn’t imagine what on earth would be called that. But it must be for sugar rush.”

I turn to look at Asher, and he has the biggest smile I think I have ever seen spread across his face. “I told you you’d like it. Come on!” I tug on his hand, and he follows. To our right, in the window, is a taffy-pulling machine. In the case on the same side of the shop is just about anything you could think of dipped in chocolate, or white chocolate, and every flavor of fudge you could imagine. All over the rest of the shop are jars, barrels, baskets, and other containers full of colorful taffy, licorice, gummy bears, jaw breakers, rock candy…the list goes on and on. “I think you will like this right over here.”

It’s a good thing he’s still holding my hand, or he probably just would have stood there in the doorway, staring at everything around him. I stop in front of a bushel basket full of root beer barrels. “But—how did you know?” He’s just standing there, still as a statue, ogling the brown candies.

“Are you kidding me? You always have root beer barrels lying around. You’ve got a bag in your locker, I think one in your glove box, and I know your mom has a standing order for ten giant bags of them every Christmas. Or did you forget that I happen to work at the hardware store during weightlifting season?”

“I didn’t forget, I just didn’t think you paid enough attention to notice my addiction to a soda flavored pieces of candy.” He smiles at me, then asks, “So how does this work?”

I point to the stack of baskets sitting next to the taffy display. “You grab a basket, and put anything you want from this side of the shop into it. When you’ve got everything you want, you bring it over to that lady at the counter, and she’ll put it all into a bag and weigh it to figure out how much it will cost. Then, if there’s anything you want from the other side of the store, they package it up for you, kind of like the deli, and then you bring it all up to the register at the front to pay for it.”

“So it’s all just by weight? Like, no matter what kind of candy it is?”

“Exactly.” He just can’t seem to stop smiling, which of course makes me smile. “I would say you look like a kid in a candy shop, but…”

“That’s precisely how I feel!”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Grab a basket and choose whatever your heart desires…as long as you can pay for it.” I wink at him, then let go of his hand to grab my own basket. I can’t help but feel a sense of loss now that I’m not touching him anymore.

I walk around the store, trying to decide what to buy. Since I just got back from volleyball camp, and two weeks before that I was at All-State Choir camp, I don’t exactly have a lot of dough in my back pocket. It’s not like you can babysit the neighbor’s kids when you’re out of town. But I was sure to save up what I could just for this trip. The first thing I put in my basket is a giant jawbreaker. I know my mom will say it’s disgusting when she sees me eating it, because it’s not something you eat in one sitting, but I love them! Then I walk to the barrel full of strawberry-filled hard candy. I just grab four of them, because otherwise I will be pigging them down all week. On my way over to the rock candy display, I stop and grab one of each of my favorite flavors of taffy. While standing in front of the colored crystals rock candy display, I can’t help but wonder how on earth I’m supposed to walk out of this store without buying every last piece of it. I know it’s just pure sugar, but I’m pretty sure it’s my favorite of all the candy here. I finally decide on one white and one purple stick, and then head over to the lady at the counter. After she weighs my bag, I take it over to the display case. You
cannot
leave Rush without fudge, and something covered in chocolate.

I’m looking over all the fine choices in the display case when Asher walks up beside me, putting his hand on the small of my back. I immediately feel warmth spreading from where his hand is touching me, all the way up to my cheeks. “You just about ready to go?”

At first I can hardly speak. But when I look back at Asher, he’s smiling, and his bag of treats is practically hiding behind his back. He must be trying to hide the fact that it’s full of root beer barrels. I smile as I say, “I just need my chocolate fix, and then I’ll pay and we can go.”

The giant man behind the case asks, “What can I get for you?”

I turn back to face him. He’s wearing a too-small crisp white apron and a chef’s hat. I almost laugh at the sight. “I’d like a half pound of peanut butter chocolate fudge, two chocolate covered pretzels, two chocolate covered strawberries, and four white chocolate covered Oreos.”

He grabs a box and says, “I’m on it.”

“You’re gonna share some of that peanut butter chocolate fudge with me, right?” Asher’s breath on my ear startles me. I didn’t realize he’d moved in so close.

“Hmm. I could share some with you. But maybe—maybe I’ll make you win some. You’ll have to ask for it when we play one of our games this week.”

“I guess that’s fair. Speaking of our next game—” Asher is cut off by the man behind the counter handing me my box of pure heaven.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“That’s all I need. But thank you!”

Asher guides me over to the register with his hand still resting on my back, where a teenage girl is sitting, looking bored. At least she was, until she started ogling Asher.

Seriously? She thinks she can just stand there and run her eyes all over him?
I mean, he’s touching me, in a boyfriend-ish way. Does she have no class?

I hand her my bag and box, and she pouts, having to look away from Asher, then gives me the evil eye.

That’s right! Get back to your job.
Wow, what has gotten into me?!

“That’ll be $15.67.”

As I start to dig in my purse for my wallet, Asher touches my elbow and says, “I got this.”

“Asher, I can pay for my own sugar rush. I specifically saved up for this trip.”

“Nope. You’re not paying for it. You won this trip to Rush, fair and square, and I refuse to let you pay for your own candy. What kind of man would I be if I just let you spend your money, when I have perfectly good money right here, in my wallet?”

“But—“

“I insist.” He hands a twenty to the girl, who turns on her megawatt smile for him.

It seems to take her a minute to get the receipt and money all together. “Here’s your change. I hope you come again.”

In your dreams
. When she hands him the receipt, her hand lingers on his, and I want to punch her in the face. I really need to get out of here, or Asher is going to see exactly how I feel about him.

Asher pulls his hand away from hers and says, “We’re just passing through.” Then he takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, and opens the door for me to pass through. What is he doing? I kind of want to ask him, but I’m afraid he might change his mind about it if I do, and I’m too happy that he’s holding my hand like this.

He walks me over to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for me, not letting go of my hand until I’m safely seated inside. I’m almost surprised he doesn’t buckle my seatbelt for me. He closes my door, and I can tell that my cheeks are as red as raspberries.

I’m not sure what to do with this Asher…but I like this Asher very much.

-----

Asher

I can’t believe that girl in there gave me her number and her Twitter handle. I mean, yeah, it feels good to get hit on. She was hot. But I’m here with Becca, so I take the receipt and crumple it up, dumping it in the cup holder.

I am a gentleman, after all.

As I put the car in Reverse, I take a quick look at Becca before putting my hand on the back of her headrest to back out. She’s looking out her window, but I can see in the reflection of the window that she has a huge grin on her face, although she’s also twisting her purity ring around her finger. I wonder if it’s because of what just happened…

After I put the car in Drive, I decide to test that theory. I try to nonchalantly reach for her hand, keeping my eyes focused on the road. When I first get my hand wrapped around her fingers, she gasps and starts to pull away. But I move my hand so I can link our fingers together, and give her hand a small squeeze.

She lets me move our hands to rest on the center console. I risk taking a glance at her, but she’s back to looking out the window, and this time I can’t see her face in the reflection. I decide to take her not pulling away from me as permission to continue holding her hand. And I’m glad she lets me.

When Becca was dating Trip, and I wasn’t able to spend any real time with her, of course I missed her. But it wasn’t until today, when I discovered how good it felt just to be able to touch her again, that I realized just how much I had missed her.

No matter what happens this week, I am never going to let Becca get far enough away from me to miss her like that ever again.