“No, you can’t! You can’t leave your best friend behind,” I charged, jogging slightly to catch up. “Please, don’t leave me behind,” I begged, my voice catching on the last.
Sam was my best friend. Every summer for as long as I could remember, he came to stay with his mom who lived in the apartment right next to my Mee-Maw. Every May, he’d come like the Arizona summer sun, blazing a trail of fun and adventure through town. And then, in September, he went back to live with his dad on the Navajo reservation, and fall and winter and spring became a waiting game.
He stopped suddenly, the dust around his feet continuing forward like he’d tricked it into moving without him. Spinning, he stared at me, folding his arms over his chest, and gave me that stony ‘I can’t believe I’m going to agree to this’ look.
That was the thing about Sam. He was both patient and wild. There was nothing he was afraid to do or explore, and it felt like as long as I was with him, I wasn’t in any danger of getting hurt.
“You can’t get to the pit with training wheels on,” he huffed.
“So take them off!” I shouted. “Take them off and teach me.”
His bony shoulders slumped, and I knew I had him.
“Fine, Tally, let’s go.”
I followed him as he trudged toward the garage that belonged to the apartment building where my bike was stored. A few minutes later, he had my worn blue bike down off the wall and removed the training wheels from the back.
I didn’t know a whole lot about his life on the reservation, but he’d told me his dad worked on cars; they had to repair a lot of them there. Maybe that was how he knew how to take off the training wheels.
“Ready?” I bounced on my heels with excitement.
“Almost.” He looked around the garage for a minute, still searching for something. Shaking his head, he handed my bike to me, instructing, “Hold on.”
He jogged to his bike, and I saw what he was looking for.
“You have to wear this. No arguments.” He plopped his helmet on my head. It was too big, but with a few quick movements, straps tightened and buckles clasped, it seemed to fit enough for him to be okay with it.
“Now what?” I beamed at him, my body buzzing.
“Now, I’ll teach you how to ride without training wheels, and you don’t say a word to Mee-Maw,” he charged, and I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop my giggle before nodding solemnly.
My Mee-Maw was like dynamite. Vibrant and sparkly but she packed a punch when set off.
“I won’t, I promise.”
His eyes searched mine and he held up his hand. “You and me.”
My smile sprung wide and made my cheeks hurt. “Against the world,” I declared and slapped his palm with mine as hard as I could.
For the next few minutes, Sam held one handlebar and my waist while I pedaled around the dirt drive, teaching me how to keep my balance and stay steady on the two-wheeled toy.
I was a quick learner—in most cases simply because I didn’t want to be left behind. And this was no different. Within a few minutes, my arms were steady and Sam was jogging next to me, hardly even holding on to me or the bike any more.
“I’m ready.”
I’d never been to the Lavender Pit before, but Sam had gone several times and told me how cool it was. He told me of the huge hole and all the colors, and part of me wanted to see it just so I could see the look on his face—a look I planned to capture with my Polaroid camera. But Mee-Maw said I wasn’t old enough; she said I’d get to go there on a field trip next year and to be patient.
I didn’t want to be patient. I wanted to go on an adventure with Sam.
He’d tried to make up for it. We went ghost hunting a lot of nights through town. We went hiking and exploring in the Mule Mountains. But I wanted to see the pit.
He stood in front of the bike, gripping both handlebars. “Are you sure?”
I tried to wiggle the handles from his grasp. “Yes!” I cried in annoyance. “I’m really ready.”
“If you get hurt…” He trailed off, pointing a warning finger at me before letting go of the bike and setting me free.
I knew. Mee-Maw would have his hide and then some.
I stuck my tongue out at his back when he went to grab his bike.
Watching him sling his leg over, my heart began to thud. I could do this.
Pursing my lips, I waddled forward with the bike between my legs and, when Sam looked over his shoulder to see if I was ready—again—I decided to show him. With a huff, my feet stuck to the pedals and the bike began to roll forward. It wobbled for just a few feet before I was going fast enough to keep me steady.
“Told you!” I hollered, but kept my eyes forward.
I heard his low laugh coming up behind me. Flying past me, his chin-length black hair whipped back in the wind, controlled sort of by his hat, but too short to be pulled back with a tie. I liked how he looked. Though I’d never tell him that. I knew he’d grow into those sharp eyes and jutting cheekbones. And one day, he’d kiss girls with those full lips and, once he knew what he was doing, I’d ask him to show me, so I was prepared to kiss boys, too.
He was my best friend. He was supposed to teach me how to do everything.
My legs pumped faster. I needed to keep up. I didn’t want him to leave me behind.
The dirt back roads were dry, dust kicking up behind his wheels and making it harder for me to see the path.
“Sam!” I called, wanting him to slow down. Then my bike hit a huge rock dead-on and the wheels shook my hands, control quickly slipping from their grasp. “Sam!” I screeched louder, fear making my voice ring high.
Don’t fall, Tally.
My heart in my throat, I scrambled for the brakes, finding the triggers. I looked up, ready to bring the bike to a stop and saw Sam, who panicked by my cry, whipped his head over his shoulder to look for me—to make sure I was okay. And the next second, I saw his bike jerk and his body go flying over the handlebars.
“Sam!” My bike at a stop, I flew off it and sprinted to him.
As I got closer, I saw the pothole in the road he hadn’t seen because he was looking back at me. This was my fault.
“Sam, are you okay?” I rushed to his side, hardly feeling the burn in my knees as I dropped to the ground.
He was on his knees, hunched over his palms on the road.
“You’re bleeding!” I cried out, seeing the pool of blood between his hands, the dark liquid disturbed by drops that kept falling from his face.
“Are you okay, Tally?” he asked, and I could hear he was hurting.
“Me? You’re the one bleeding!” I charged.
His face turned to mine, and I saw the cause. There was a huge gash along the bottom of his chin where it had hit. Blood oozing and collecting before dripping onto the road.
“This is all my fault,” I told him and then burst into tears.
“Not your fault, Tally.” He pushed himself up slowly and pulled his shirt up to wipe his chin which immediately started bleeding again. “We have to go back.”
He didn’t have to say anything more. I knew what that meant. I knew he’d have to tell Mee-Maw.
My chin quivered.
I wasn’t upset about not going. I wasn’t even scared about how much trouble we were going to be in. I was petrified that he’d never want to go on an adventure with me again.
“I’ll put your bike back, and say I was riding without my helmet,” he told me, balling his shirt up against his chin.
I sucked in a breath. That was almost worse than telling his mom and Mee-Maw that I was riding without my training wheels.
“You can’t do that! This is my fault. I wasn’t good enough yet, and I had your helmet.” I shook my head, hardly able to form the words the way my tongue was thick and clumsy in my mouth. “You can’t get in trouble. Not because of me. If you get in trouble, then you won’t want to hang out with me. And who else is going to hang out with me? And hunt ghosts? And go to the mines? Y-You’re my best friend
—”
“Tally.” He gripped my shoulders, shaking me with a look on his face that brought my cries to a stuttering halt. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m not going to let you get in trouble.”
I gulped and stared at him.
“You and me, remember?” he repeated, his busted lip, bruised face, and bleeding chin making the promise much more serious than it had ever been before.
I nodded slowly. “Against the world.”
Age Fifteen
“Why do we need to do this again?” Sam focused on the ceiling and asked, his voice muffled so Mee-Maw didn’t hear.
He was lying next to me in my bed—crushed up against me was more like it since the bed was only a twin and Sam was officially a towering man.
Earlier this summer, there’d been a huge thunderstorm. Usually, I was alright, but this one had me shaking under the covers. I’d messaged Sam, asking if he was awake and wanted to talk; if we were talking, I wouldn’t be thinking about the storm. I hadn’t expected him to text me back a few minutes later with a picture of my window. Each of the apartments in the building had a small, front-facing deck. Our deck ended just in front of my window and, when I opened it, Sam climbed up onto the wet railing and, leaning forward to grip my windowsill, hoisted himself inside.
I thought it might be weird. Or even just a onetime thing.
But it was neither.
More often than not, Sam ended up coming over after Mee-Maw went to sleep, and we stayed up talking into the night. He never left. He slept, scrunched in my bed, and always woke me before he snuck out in the morning; he knew how it would make me feel to wake up with him gone.
“Because,” I huffed, the mattress squeaking as I turned to face him. “I need to know—to be prepared for how to kiss. Just like riding a bike. Or when I learn how to drive. You have to show me, so I know what I’m doing.”
He stared at the ceiling, his jaw tensing on whether or not to agree.
I nudged him. “It’s just one kiss. For practice.”
My skin tingled like I was somehow lying. It was just one kiss. But maybe it wasn’t exactly for practice.
I’d had opportunities to practice the last year in school. All my friends were going on about their first kisses and I’d almost been cut out from the group for not having one. So, I quickly changed my tune and admitted to having kissed Sam before. He wasn’t there to deny it, and even if they did question him when summer rolled around, he’d go along with it; we always had each other’s backs.
But, instead of the admission freeing me to kiss one of the boys in my class, I’d avoided them like the plague. From the second I’d blurted out that my best friend had given me my first kiss, I realized he had to be the one; it seemed wrong for it to be anyone else.
Inhaling deeply, Sam shifted and carefully turned on his side, putting our faces inches from one another.
“Please,” I pleaded, licking my lips. “Unless you don’t want to. It’s fine—”
I inhaled sharply when his large palm cupped my cheek, framing it with warmth.
“You always get me into trouble, Tally Kerr,” he said, pressing his thumb just under my lips.
I frowned. “You always agree to get into trouble, Sam Deschenes.”
He continued to stare at my mouth and I was about to ask if something was wrong or, at the very least, promise that I’d brushed my teeth before coming to bed, when he cleared his throat and rasped, “Ready?”
Was I ready for my first kiss?
My first kiss with Sam?
I stopped breathing. Suddenly, it seemed like the simple request was much more. Much more lying in the dark, pressed against each other in the same bed. Much more with him. But whatever it was, I wanted it.
“I’m really ready,” I said breathlessly.
I heard a low growl of strain, unsure if it came from the mattress or from Sam as his face dipped to mine.
My eyes closed at the last second, right when the soft heat of his lips touched mine and my body exploded with unfamiliar sensations. Sensations like flying down a hill, my bike wheels spinning the pedals faster than I could keep up. Like jumping into a cool lake after burning up under the desert sun. Like that first sip of soda that quenches but also makes you thirst for more.
Exhilarating. Satisfying. Hungry.
His lips slanted gently over mine, coaxing me deeper into the kiss. I shivered when I felt his tongue trace along the seam of my mouth, my lips parting with a small, surprised inhale.
Sam jerked back and blinked a few times like he’d gotten lost and just remembered where he was—and who he was with.
“You’re a bad kisser,” he grunted like he was in pain and rolled back onto his back, bending his knee that was closest to me and reaching down to adjust himself.
Was he… because of me?
I flushed.
Still reeling, I gasped and smacked his arm. “That’s so mean! Why would you say that?” I demanded hotly. “You’re supposed to make me better.”
Mirroring his movement, I shifted onto my back and tried to stop my heart from racing. Was this supposed to happen with every kiss? The feeling of my heart about to beat out of my chest?
“Nope.” He shook his head and laughed.
“Why? Why not?”
“I don’t want you to be better,” he declared.
My brow scrunched. “What? Why not? That makes no sense.”
“Good night, Tally.” He rolled onto his other side, facing away from me.
My frustration rose. “Tell me why you don’t want me to be better.” No response. “Sam!” I hissed and shoved his back, not realizing how close he was to the edge.
With a strangled cry, he tumbled off the side of the bed and landed on the floor with a thud. A loud thud.
I scrambled to the side of the bed. “Are you okay?”
“Dammit, Tally,” he swore, looking up at me. “You pushed me off the bed!”
“You wouldn’t answer me,” I hissed.
“Talia? Are you alright?” Mee-Maw’s voice called from her room at the other end of the hall, the distinct sound of her footsteps following it.
My eyes bulged and, before I could come up with a plan, Sam gripped my arms and tugged me down on top of him.
And if I wasn’t sure before, I was definitely sure now that there was something going on below his waist that I’d only heard whispers of from girls at school.
My cheeks felt on fire. “What are you doing?” I wiggled against him, making him hiss in pain.
“Making it look like you fell off the bed,” he growled. “Now stop moving before you really get us in trouble.”
A second later there was a knock on my door as Mee-Maw peeked in. “Are you alright, Tally?”
“Yes!” I squeaked, popping my head up from the far side of the bed and going along with the plan. “I was just… having a dream… and I rolled off the bed.”
Making a show of climbing back onto it with my blankets, I assured her, “I’m okay.”
Her head tipped to the side, white hair framing her face like a cloud of disbelief. “Alright.” She sighed. “Good night.”
“‘Night.” I tucked myself in, holding a smile until my door shut.
Neither of us moved—neither of us breathed until we heard my grandmother’s bedroom door shut once more. And then I peeked over the side again.
“You okay?”
“You’re trouble with a capital T,” he said gruffly, and I moved back so he could have his space back on the bed.
“You should’ve just told me why.”
“Because you’re too young to be kissing boys,” he grunted, resuming his turned-away posture.
“Lie. You were younger than me when you said you kissed that girl at your school,” I returned, annoyed to have to remember that. “Please, Sam.”
I held my breath and cracked a silent smile when he let out a long groan and replied with a low, hoarse voice, “Because I don’t want other guys to want to kiss you, alright? Now, go
od night.”
I rolled onto my back and processed his answer, murmuring a soft ‘good night’ while my brain tried to figure out what he meant.
Did he not trust other guys to respect me?
If no other guys wanted to kiss me, then who else would be left—
My eyes popped wide.
Was that what he meant?
No, that couldn’t be right. I argued with myself until the early hours of the morning, pretending to be asleep when Sam woke me up to tell me he was leaving.
Did he want to be the only one to kiss me?
Age Seventeen
“Remember the first time we tried to come here and you ended up with five stitches in your chin instead?” I tossed a smile over my shoulder to where Sam lounged on the worn woven blanket we always brought out to the pit to picnic on.
Every summer he came back, he was both the same but different. Taller. Stronger. More tanned. This summer though, the boy I’d said goodbye to last year had returned a man. Sure, he’d filled out in ways my teenage body appreciated, but there was a depth to his eyes, a weight to his steady expression that wasn’t there before. Over the last few months, it had lessened, and his smile came easier.
“Remember the first time we actually came out here, and you thought it was going to be a hole full of flowers?” he teased, the flash of white across his face made my heart skip.
“Whatever. I was eight,” I scoffed, tossing a peanut from the bag of Mee-Maw’s homemade trail mix at his head.
Apparently, the open pit copper mine had been named for the man who’d owned and mined it—Harrison Lavender. How was I supposed to know it wasn’t actually going to be purple?
We’d spent almost the entire afternoon at the Lavender Pit, and it was both my favorite and the worst kind of summer day.
It was my favorite because it had been Sam and me all day. Talking about life. The future. Going to college together in New York and trading the wild west for the Big Apple. And it was the only thing I’d wanted for my birthday.
My birthday had become a day of increasing sadness because it always meant Sam would be leaving soon after to go back to his dad’s on the reservation. Every year, but especially the last few, having to say goodbye and watch him leave for the next seven months had grown increasingly unbearable.
Remember Arizona: A Second Chance Romance (Country Love Collection) Page 2
