A Fresh Start

by Lexi Bissen

  Gibson’s eyes widen. “Baby, that’s amazing. Your parents must be so proud of you.” His frown from earlier is replaced with a bright smile. I wish my mom and dad would have the same reaction.

  I tuck my head into his shoulder, hiding my face. “I haven’t told then.” It comes out muffled and I’m not sure he heard me.

  He puts his finger under my chin and lifts my face so he can see me. “You haven’t told your parents you have a scholarship to an amazing school? Why, Ronnie?”

  “Because I know they aren’t going to want me to go. It’s a full ride, so they wouldn’t have to pay for anything. I’ve saved up enough money to pay for the deposit on an apartment. All I have to do is look for a roommate and a job out there.”

  “They have no reason not to let you go if you have everything worked out. Why wouldn’t you tell them everything you’ve told me?” he asks.

  “Because…when my older brother Jerry told them he wasn’t planning on staying here or getting a football scholarship, my parents were so angry and upset with him. I’m sure they’d be the same if Sean decided he wasn’t going to go for a football scholarship. My dad has put everything into getting Sean accepted into a great football program.” Daddy has worked his butt off making connections with scouts and coaches at some of the best colleges in the country. Sean already has three offers from universities that have had players go into the NFL.

  Gibson sits up and turns to face me. “What you want is just as important as what your brother wants, Ronnie. You should be able to tell your parents you were accepted into UNF without being afraid of upsetting them. I’m sure it will be hard for your mom and dad to have you gone, but you’ll be doing what’s best for you. A university gives you a higher chance for job opportunities and a better education than going to a community college.”

  “I know that, it’s telling them everything you told me that’s the problem. I’m not the best when it comes to vocally expressing myself. That’s why I love this English assignment. I had planned on writing everything I want to tell my parents in the paper and having them read it. Writing is the best way for me.”

  He slaps his hands together and then rubs them. “All right then. That’s what we’re going to do.”

  I sit up, confused. “What do you mean ‘what we’re going to do’?”

  The smile on his face makes me nervous. “We, my beautiful girl, are going to make this the best damn paper anyone has ever written. By the end of it, your parents will be packing your bags and helping you look for a place to live.” I give him an are you serious look. “Okay, okay. Maybe they aren’t going to be that thrilled, but this paper will give them an understanding of why you want to get out of Freedom and go to a better school. You have big dreams, Ronnie. They should be proud of you.”

  I’ve always heard people don’t fall in love quickly, that falling in love is building, but at this moment, I don’t believe that. I feel as though I just fell in love with the man sitting in front of me.

  Before I can respond, a loud crash comes from above, and when I look up, a bolt of lightning strikes. Gibson stares up at the sky and then looks to me. “I guess I should have checked the weather before planning something outdoors.” We both laugh just as the rain comes down on us.

  Gibson and I jump up and make quick work getting everything collected and run to the truck. By the time we get everything thrown into the backseat, the two of us are soaked. I wring out my wet hair once I’m in the front seat. Looking over at Gibson, he’s attempting to fix his shirt that is now clinging to his wet body, showing every dip and ridge of muscle. He catches me staring and looks down to my wet shirt, but unlike me, he looks away. He clears his throat before saying, “Um, you might want to put something on over your shirt.”

  Confused, I look down and realize why he looked away so quickly. My wet shirt and bra leave little to the imagination, and the cold doesn’t help one bit. The girls are giving Gibson quite the show. I reach over to the backseat to grab a hoodie I always keep for when I get cold. After putting it on, I mumble “Sorry,” before starting the truck and blasting the heat.

  We had gone the entire date without any awkward moments of silence…until now. Gibson is still looking out the window and I focus on the road as the rain pounds down hard outside. “Sorry about the rain storm. I never thought to check the weather,” he says, being the first to break the silence.

  “It’s okay. Bama weather can sometimes surprise you,” I practically shout to be heard over the rain.

  Gibson glances over at me from the corner of my eye. “It sucks that the date is cut short now. You didn’t get to have any of my badass strawberries. Allen told me those were your favorite fruit.” He’s so sweet to make sure tonight is perfect for meme when it’s also his first real date.

  “I hate it, too. Maybe there’s something else we could do.” I go through my head of what our town has to offer. Movie? Waste of money. Bowling? A lot of people from school go there and I’m sure one of them would run off to tell Sean who I was on a date with. Nothing comes to mind that would be an option for us to do.

  Gibson ends my list of failed ideas with one of his own. “Dan is working a double today. He said he wouldn’t be home until later tonight. You want to hang around his place? We could watch some movies or something.”

  Nodding my head, I look out the window, but can’t seem to stop fidgeting in my seat. Why am I nervous all of a sudden? It’s not like the two of us haven’t been there alone. Maybe it’s these new feelings I’m experiencing and that our time together helped to make us closer. Even though I’m anxious about it only being the two of us in the house, I don’t want this night to end, so I agree.

  The ride has been mostly silent. I’ve come up with different things to talk about, but shot down every thought. By her restlessness, I can tell Ronnie is nervous. While I don’t want the date to end, I also don’t expect anything and I think she may see it differently. I feel closer to her after our talk and don’t want to fuck anything up by moving too fast for her.

  My uncle’s house comes into view and I sit up, preparing myself for the run I’ll have to do through the rain. Grabbing the house key from my front pocket, I hold them out to Ronnie. “Here, take the keys and run inside. I’m going to grab the cooler and blanket from the back and then I’ll meet you up there.” She nods, but then jerks her head away.

  After collecting the stuff, I make a quick run up to the front porch, trying not to slip in any of the puddles. Ronnie is standing there, holding the door open and wringing the water out of her hair. I can’t help but stop and stare at her, rain be damned. She’s so beautiful and after learning more about her today, the passionate and driven part, I can’t help but fall more for this girl.

  Ronnie gives me a small smile when she catches me watching her. I quickly get inside and shut the front door, muffling the storm.

  Before this can get any more awkward, I begin walking through the house. My clothes are soaked and I’m sure Ronnie’s are just as wet. Turning around, I catch her standing behind me in the kitchen, a small puddle of water starting to form at her feet. Shit, I should get her some dry clothes so she won’t be cold.

  “Do you want a change of clothes?” I ask her.

  She nods her head. “Pl-please,” she says, her teeth chattering. I go straight to my room, stopping in the hallway to turn the air up, and grab her a pair of my sleep pants and a t-shirt. When I get back to the living room, Ronnie is taking off her wet shoes and socks. When she turns to me, her face brightens and she smiles at the dry clothes in my hand.

  I hand her the clothes and point down the hallway toward the bathroom. “You can go ahead and use the bathroom. I’ll go change in my room. If you want, I can put your wet clothes in the dryer.”

  “That would be great. Thanks.” She heads into the bathroom and shuts the door.

  I get to my room as fast as I can and change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Grabbing my wet clothes, I throw them into the dryer and head to the ki
tchen. I search the cabinets and pantry to see if Dan has anything hot to drink. When I come up empty handed, I decide to make a pot of coffee. The bathroom door opens and a few seconds later, Ronnie walks into the kitchen, looking downright sexy in my clothes. A possessive feeling comes over me at seeing my girl in what’s mine. I like her that way. She should wear my clothes everywhere she goes.

  “I put my clothes in the dryer and started it. I saw that you left it open,” she rushes out, breaking through my territorial thoughts.

  “Great, thanks. I made some coffee to help warm you up.” I point to the brewing pot, not knowing what else to do. This date went from a perfect dinner on the beach to being uncomfortable fast.

  Ronnie looks to the pot and smiles. “That sounds perfect. I get cold easily and it doesn’t help that my hair is still wet.” She points up to where she now has her hair in a messy bun on top of her head.

  “I would offer you a hair dryer, but I honestly don’t think there is one.” Two guys with short hair don’t require much when it comes to styling needs. Dan has a buzz cut, so he needs one even less than I do.

  “That’s okay. It should be dry soon.” The coffee pot goes off, telling us it’s ready. I make my way over to get a cup for Ronnie. The two of us work in silence, me pouring the coffee and her grabbing the sugar and creamer. Her coffee in hand, Ronnie holds it up to her nose and inhales. She peeks an eye open, catching me watching her, she lowers the mug and gives me a shy smile. “Sorry. I have this strange obsession with the smell of coffee. There’s nothing better, in my opinion. If I could, I would live in a coffee shop.”

  I can’t help but laugh at how cute this chick is. “I get it…well, I may not like the smell as much as you do, but I understand having a strange obsession like that.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s your obsession then?” She leans forward, seeming more interested.

  Not something I share, I want to say. Only River knows about the one obsession I have. It’s not something to be ashamed of, it’s just something that connects me to my dad’s lifestyle—the same one I’m trying to stay away from.

  Ronnie must take my silence as something bad because she distances herself from me. “It’s not something crazy, right? You don’t collect fingernail clippings or have a foot fetish, do you?” Foot fetish? Where does she come up with this stuff?

  “No, I don’t keep disgusting nails or have a thing for feet,” I say around a laugh.

  She laughs too, but then her face becomes serious. “So, what is it then? You can tell me, I don’t judge. You saw me sniff my coffee a minute ago. That was a bit crazy if you ask me.”

  It wasn’t crazy. It was adorable, but I don’t tell her that. It’s not that I don’t trust Ronnie, she’s never given me a reason not to, I just don’t like telling her something about me that brings me happiness, but is also something I wish I weren’t crazy about.

  “Playing the guitar, that’s my obsession,” I tell her. “Growing up, my dad had always forced me to play after he found out I have a natural talent for it and can memorize a tune just from listening. Since I was six, my dad would sit me down and make me play over and over until I was a pro. It slowed down after he started going on tour more often, but when he was gone, I would get this urge to play. At night, I would get restless until I did something about it.”

  Ronnie’s eyebrows sink in. “You don’t like having that connection to your dad’s life.” She doesn’t say it as a question because the answer is clear. I don’t like having any connection to my dad’s rock star lifestyle. The long nights as a preteen spent playing the guitar aren’t some of my favorite memories of my dad. The permanent calluses don’t help either.

  I nod. “It’s a talent I wish I didn’t have. My dad was crazy about my ability and I resented it, but playing became an outlet for me. The pain in my hands and the hate I had for it helped when I was angry at my parents.”

  “I understand. It sounds like playing the guitar is the same for you as writing is for me. It’s an escape, a way for you to get away from reality for a short amount of time.”

  I love that I’ve found someone who understands me. “You write?” I ask her.

  She finishes taking a sip of her drink and nods. “Yes. It’s what I plan on going to school for. I’ve always loved coming up with stories and the older I got, the more I realized I could make something of the stories in my head. I’ve actually written a couple books I have on my laptop. I plan on publishing them after I get some experience with college.”

  It doesn’t surprise me that she’s already written books and has a plan for life after college. Ronnie is amazing and has a great head on her shoulders. “Sounds like you have everything planned out. So, what, you’re going to become a fulltime author after college?”

  Shrugging her shoulders, she looks down at the mug in her hands. “Not sure yet. It’s doubtful I could make a living on only writing books. I may go into editing. Reading is something I love, so having a full time job where I get to work with authors on their books and help make them perfect would be awesome.”

  “But writing is what you would want to do?”

  She nods and finishes the last of the coffee in her hand. “Yeah, but it would be a struggle. Getting an editing job would be ideal. That way I could write on the side.” Her baby blues sparkle when she talks about books and writing. I’ve never seen someone so passionate about anything before. I noticed it this morning when we were on the couch and she was telling me about her favorite author and some alien series she loves. Did I give a shit about some books? No, but seeing her face light up was worth it.

  Ronnie takes her now empty mug over to the sink and rinses it out. “You’ll be amazing at anything you do. There’s a drive in you most people don’t have,” I say.

  When she turns around and faces me, the sweetest smile covers her face. Ronnie walks over and wraps her arms around my waist, hugging me tight. “Thank you,” she whispers into my chest.

  I get the feeling Ronnie doesn’t get much motivation of confidence at home. What’s good is she isn’t one of those girls whose self-conscious, but I do think she doubts herself more than she should. Ronnie is smart, she has to be for her to get that scholarship, but I don’t think she has been told that much of her life.

  After giving my waist one last squeeze, she looks up from my chest. “You want to go watch that movie?”

  “Yeah, one rule, though. No chick flicks. A man can only handle so much.”

  Letting out a loud laugh, I wink at him. “Don’t worry, rock star, I save the romance movies for Allen. He probably enjoys them more than I do.” I believe that.

  We head into the living room where I collect the remotes and turn the lights off while Ronnie gets comfortable on the sofa. She grabs the blanket off the back and lays it over her lap, leaving one side flipped open, inviting me to sit by her. Once I’m situated next to her, I flip through the comedy section for a movie to watch. Ronnie slaps my legs, stopping my search. When I see what movie she stopped me at, I can’t help but laugh.

  “White Chicks? Really?” Once again, Ronnie is always surprising me. I never would have guessed White Chicks would be one of the movies she would pick.

  Snatching the remote out of my hand, she scoffs and presses play. “Yes, White Chicks. This movie is the best. My brothers and I used to watch it all the time when Jerry lived at home.” Her face drops at the mention of her oldest brother. This morning, she told me about the news she got from him last night and all the plans she has for the week he’s here. Every time Ronnie talks about her brothers, the love she has for them is clear on her face. It’s the instant smile and the way her eyes drift off as she thinks about them. Even though Sean has acted like an ass each time I’ve been around him, Ronnie loves him and that’s all that matters.

  Since I won’t be arguing over Ronnie’s movie choice, because I also think White Chicks is one of the funniest movies around, I sink farther into the couch and rest my bare feet on the coffee table in front of us. Ronn
ie leans against me, playing with the corner of the blanket in her hand. She’s fidgeting, either from still being cold or her nerves coming back. I grab her hand and lay it on her lap palm up, never looking away from the TV. Her breathing picks up as I trace of my fingers along the pads of her hand. Ronnie’s hands are soft, but have some rough spots where there are calluses. Kind of like she is—soft and feminine, yet tough. After tracing every inch of her hand, I move up to Ronnie’s arm, feeling the goose bumps appear the farther I go. Her breath hitches once I meet the crease in her arm. I like knowing my touch affects her this way. God knows hers affects me.

  The two of us grow comfortable sitting side by side, laughing at the movie playing in front of us while I run my fingers up and down her arm to her hand. Right before the Wayans brothers perform their dance off, Ronnie stops my hand as I’m about to flip it over. She picks up my arm and brings my hand to her mouth, leaving a soft kiss on it. She lowers it to her lap and starts to massage my fingers, focusing on the calluses at the tips. Her thoughtful gesture warms me up inside. I haven’t known this girl long, but I already have stronger feelings for her than anyone I’ve ever been with. I wouldn’t call it love yet, but it’s damn near close.

  I planned on keeping our date PG—truly, I had—and so far, it’s stayed within that frame, even with Ronnie’s thank you attack and the chilly nips in the car. But right now, with the two of us alone in the house, on the couch, with the lights off, the thoughts going through my head aren’t anywhere near PG. When I gaze over to Ronnie, she’s concentrating on her task. Ronnie’s nose scrunches up and I know she’s thinking about me being forced to play the guitar when I was younger, about the pain playing for hours caused. Ronnie doesn’t look as though she feels sorry for me, though, more along the lines of anger and sadness as she stares at my damaged hands.

  I remove my hand from Ronnie’s lap, before I can second guess myself, and lift it up to cradle her cheek. Leaning in, I close the distance between our faces. My face close to hers, I whisper, “Thank you, princess,” right before my lips touch hers.