by Ginger Scott
“I needed to say all of this out loud because I feel like you don’t get it. I need you to understand why I did what I did, and why I am so mad at you sometimes. I’m afraid you’re not going to come home. It’s made me hate that game, Reed. And I hate that you love it so much. I just feel…”
“Stuck,” I fill in.
She nods, repeating the word.
“I don’t want to feel this way,” she says, trailing off and looking down at her feet…the floor.
“I know. Me, too.”
I can feel it coming. This is the place I should stop. But that would be lying, and she’s been so honest. This won’t be real dialogue if I don’t hold up my half.
“I feel guilty…for wanting to be who I am, to do what I do.” I glance up to check if she’s still looking down. She is, but she’s chewing at her lip. She wants to yell. She probably should. I’d still feel this way, though.
“I don’t want to quit.”
There it is. It’s heavy in my gut, and her stillness makes it feel as if I swallowed concrete. I want something that is in direct conflict with what the love of my life wants. We both have our reasons, and I am picking my reasons over hers. She hates that I am. She probably should. She understands anyway.
And this dance shall continue.
It felt good to be talking at least. It also felt good to leave her with a house full of friends. They’ll stay through the weekend, and we all promised—I promised—not to let so much time go by before we do this again.
I keep replaying hearing my dad talk with Bryce while they watched my clips. It was like I wasn’t really there, like they were talking about someone else.
Like I was dead.
I don’t remember that guy on that screen. I love the game just as much as he did, but something changed with my surgery, with those last few big hits. I’m playing afraid, and it’s the reason I’m not playing at all. I don’t know how to lose that fear, and what I was trying to tell Nolan this morning was that I think I need her to remove it for me.
She packed me a small bag of snacks, a cute thing she used to do in college when I’d drive back from her college to mine. She handed it to me in the rolled-up paper bag, but the smirk on her face gave it away. I got about a mile away from the house before I opened the bag and pulled out the orange crayon she shoved in there.
I didn’t want to call her about it right away, so I waited until now—until I passed through our favorite mountains in Southern Arizona and the place where we slept together for the very first time. Until I got to the spot that the orange crayon was all about in the first place.
I pull over in the same lookout as I did twenty-two years ago, the campgrounds a little more formal than they were back then. The Jeep slides to a stop in a graveled area marked with concrete, and I get out to look down a well-manicured trail below that leads to numbered spots, only two taken up with tents. The scene makes me laugh to myself, because it’s nothing like the remote and rustic location I remember taking her virginity in. I wonder if I remember things differently.
Her phone rings about six times before sending me to voicemail. She’s probably out with the horses. I nearly hang up, but before I press the END CALL button and shove the phone in my pocket, I decide maybe she deserves to hear how I remember that night. I’ve actually never told her.
I wait for the tone to prompt me.
“Hey. I got the crayon…nice touch,” I say, pulling it from my pocket and rolling it between my thumb and finger like a joint.
“I was hoping you’d pick up, but you probably have a lot to get done today. I’m sure I put you behind with things. Oh, and hey…make Peyton help you with the horses. That was part of the deal; don’t let her forget that.”
I lean back on the front of the Jeep and look at the rolling valley where a thin trickle of water somehow exists. It snows up here in the winter, and rain can collect when there’s a lot of it. We must have gotten just enough.
“So, I’m in the spot right now.” I pause to laugh. Nolan never liked to talk about our first time. She’d blush and cover her face, tell me to stop. She can’t really do that to me right now, so I decide to push on. She can always stop my message, but I kinda think she’ll hear it all the way to the end. It’s in her nature to be curious.
“I never really got to tell you what that night was like for me. Someone gets all embarrassed. But someone should have picked up the phone if they didn’t want a long-ass message about it. And since you did give me the crayon…”
Reed – Twenty-one years ago
This trip—everything about it—it needs to be perfect. Nolan’s birthday, the gift I’m giving her, the lie we’re telling her parents so she can spend the night away from home…
It all needs to be perfect.
When Nolan asked me about other girls during our bus ride home from the track meet near the end of the season, a shift happened. My honesty with her was key, and I know it left a scar. But that scar—it was going to happen eventually.
I knew what I was risking the minute I slept with those other girls. I was gambling away my chances to ever be with Nolan. And when she asked me, point-blank, to my face, to tell her every girl I slept with, I knew I was rolling dice again by telling her the truth. I knew that some details were more painful than others—some girls more of a betrayal than others. One girl in particular was going to break her heart.
And I broke it.
I saw it break, watched it fall into a million tiny pieces with the tear that slid down her face before she tried to wipe it away. Seeing that, it broke me, too. But I felt the odds in my gut; somehow, I knew that not telling her about Sarah’s sister, that lying to Nolan, would be the fatal error.
So, I confessed. I confessed and then I held her, and begged her not to run. And she hasn’t; not yet. But every time I’m with her, I feel her urge, her questioning of herself, wondering if she’s worthy, wondering if this is a trick, wondering when I’m going to drive the knife into her heart. She’s been questioning herself, questioning us, for a month. And that…that is no one’s blame but my own.
I’ve hurt Nolan, and I’m the biggest dick in the world for doing it. But this trip, it will lay her doubts to rest, a do-over for our first date, a second-chance for that epic beginning. It’s everything she deserves. Or at least, it’s a start. I think about the time I’ve wasted, how Nolan’s been there for everything in my life—even just the time’s she’s sat there in those stands while I was on the field, my head not where it should be at all. I was focused on partying, getting laid, having some girl make me feel like a king for five minutes. I wanted to be the guy everyone told me I was supposed to be—the hero, stepping into my brother’s shoes. All that time Nolan was there…watching.
I should have been looking back.
I ditched my last class so I could be here for this moment. Her backpack is weighing down her shoulders while she walks to my Jeep, her overnight bag already packed and tucked in the backseat from this morning. She thought it was strange when I asked her to pack a full change of clothes, sweatpants and sweatshirt, toothbrush, her favorite music, a flashlight and an orange crayon. When she questioned it, I told her we might be doing something that would get her a little messy, but I didn’t breathe a word about the fact that it might just take about twenty-four hours too.
I put the orange crayon on her list just to mess with her, because I like the way she bites her lip before she pushes me and grins. It’s just one of a million tiny things she does that I like. I doubt she’ll actually pack it, though. Nolan—she’s always been good at reading my bullshit, and I don’t think she’ll fall for this one.
I watch her every move as she tosses her heavy bag into the back with a thump and pulls her other bag to her lap, clutching it as she buckles herself in, her fingers working the bag’s zipper back and forth with nerves. I stare at her hands, and for a brief second, I flash to my fantasies, to that little thought buried in the back of my head about tonight—Nolan is going to be in my
arms all night, and there’s a chance…
“So, where is this mystery date?” she asks, snapping me back, my lap more than obvious what I was thinking about. I shift my weight, rev the engine, and move the gear into reverse, hoping she doesn’t notice I have the hard-on of a junior high boy in health class. I take a deep breath, then look at her, her eyes full of hope that I’m going to give in and tell her early. I wish I could, because maybe, just maybe, she’d be as excited as I am over the thought of sleeping together, and maybe…
I stop myself there. I know better. If I tell her we’re leaving town, that I’ve concocted a lie with her friends so she can sleep out under the stars with me alone, she’s only going to spend the entire trip trying to talk me out of it. Nolan’s a rule follower—one more of the million tiny things I love.
Love.
“No, no…all will reveal itself,” I say, catching a glimpse of her bobbing leg, the nervous energy seeping out from her. She’s anxious. Anxious is a whole lot better than being doubtful and worried. So far, this gamble is paying off.
Traffic is in my favor today. Our trip through the desert highway is quick, and we’re buzzing south on the interstate in no time. I can tell that Nolan’s anxiety is picking up, though, and I’m pretty sure she’s realized that this date I have planned—it’s not going to be over by curfew.
“Reed, maybe I should call my dad? I think he was thinking I’d be home by nine or something?” Nolan asks, her nail-biting picking up at a frantic pace.
She’s legitimately worried now, so I cut her a break. “Not a problem, already got it worked out,” I say, unable to help but smile while I talk. I hope like hell she’s smiling after I tell her this next part. “See…you’re spending the night at Sarah’s tonight. She worked this whole thing out with me.”
Shit. She’s not smiling. Her face looks shocked. I think I’ve shocked her. I also think she might think she’s actually spending the night with Sarah, and that makes me laugh a little. I keep my focus straight ahead, on the car in front of us, for the next mile, until I can get my massive grin under control.
When I finally sneak a look at her again, her brow is pinched, that small worry line forming on her forehead. I don’t like that line—I’ve put it there too often.
The entire trip takes about two hours, and we’re right on schedule when I make the turn off the interstate into the mountains outside the city. I’m watching Tucson’s lights fade in my rearview window as we climb higher into the desert hills. Soon the cacti give way to pines and forest brush. I always loved coming here with my dad and brother, the way the desert hides this forest oasis is almost like a fairytale. This place doesn’t feel like it should belong, like it’s fleeting and might disappear at any second.
That’s sort of how I feel about Nolan. The way she’s been carrying her doubt, like she might give up on us and run. To think that my time with her might be fleeting hits me in the pit of my stomach, and I push the gas a little harder, like I’m racing against two clocks now.
I think maybe this feeling is regret.
The turn is coming soon, so I start to slow the Jeep down again after a few minutes, hunching forward on the wheel to watch for the small wooden sign marking the road. I’ve never driven this road at twilight, but I remember the sign is crooked, leaning just enough into the roadway to make it hard to miss.
My bright beams glimmer off the metal post, and I hit the break a little too hard, Nolan gripping her seatbelt and pushing her feet against the floor to stay in her seat. On instinct, I reach my hand over her chest, bracing her, holding her in place, and she wraps her hands around my forearm.
I leave my arm there for a few extra seconds. I like it—her touch. I like that it feels like she needs me. This girl…I could marry her one day.
The campsite comes up quickly, so I pull off into a thick section of trees, kill the motor, and practically leap out of my Jeep. I sprint to the back and pull out my large hiking pack, the sleeping bags tightly rolled and tethered to the top, then race over to her door, my breath held waiting for her to react.
When the realization of what we’re here for hits her—the coordination it took to pull this off becomes worth it in an instant. Her lips make that slow curve up, quivering with emotion until her smile stretches the width of her face.
That smile—that’s the one I did this for, the one I’d do anything for.
I don’t even wait for her to speak, instead spreading out our camping equipment, setting up the tent, dumping pieces from my pack. At one point, I actually laugh lightly to myself, the kind of release that comes from giving, and my heart is pounding so hard that my ears are practically thumping. I’ve never been so happy making someone else so happy.
Huh…
“Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to help me set up camp?” I tease, snapping her from her daze. She actually shakes her head, like people do when they wake up from a dream. And I love that, too.
Love that.
I love that I made her do that.
I love Nolan Lennox. And I’m going to give her the stars to prove it.
“Oh! Yes, sorry. I was just taking it in,” she says, leaping from the Jeep and rolling up her sleeves to help me. As much as we need to set up the tent, I can’t help but waste the minutes away looking at her—touching her. The second she’s within reach, I drop everything and pick her up, holding her to the sky, spinning her so the stars swirl around her face, her hair blowing in different directions, her cheeks blushing with happiness, her smile making me feel whole.
“Happy birthday, Nolan!” I say, letting her body slide down into my arms, my lips finding hers, my forehead resting on hers, my breathing matching hers. Everything—her.
“Reed?” she whispers.
“Uh huh?” I say back, my hands finding her hips, swaying us side to side, my eyes closed while I think of how this small piece of her feels under my touch—how badly I want to feel her, more of her. But I won’t cross that line with her, not until she’s the one asking for it.
“We probably should set the tent up,” she whispers again, my eyes opening enough to catch a view of her lip, tucked in her teeth. She’s thinking about that line, too.
“Oh yeah, that’s what we were doing,” I joke, closing my eyes again while I flex my fingers once more, just enough to burn the memory in place before letting go.
The tent is pretty simple, so we have it set up within minutes, and I get a fire working quickly while she sits on the sleeping bag I’ve rolled out next to the wood, her arms hugging her backpack to her chest. Her eyes practically paint me with their stare, and as disarming as it is when she studies me, it also feels so damn good. She’s been looking at me like this for years now, like I’m someone. She did it the first time our eyes met, and it filled me up with this strange sensation that I ignored.
Goddamn how many things I’ve ignored.
“What’s up?” I ask, her eyes still watching my every move.
“I was just thinkin’,” she smiles.
“Yeah, I get that much,” I say. “Whatcha thinking?”
“Well, I get the clothes and the toothbrush. And the flashlight?” She furrows her brow. She’s trying to figure out the bag, the list of things I made her pack. She’s working up to the crayon, and it’s so damned cute. Holy shit, I think she actually packed it!
“Oh, yeah. Thanks! I’ll need that. I don’t have one of those,” I grin, grabbing the flashlight from her backpack and pushing it into my pocket, turning around again quickly, hiding my grin because I know she wants to know about the rest.
“Why my music?” she asks next.
I pause at the fire, the sparks finally kindling enough for the flames to take over the work, and pull Nolan up to stand in front of me, my lips dusting hers. “Duh, so I can dance with you under the stars,” I say, teasing her and tilting her chin so her eyes can take in the sky.
“Okay, okay,” she says, a breathy giggle escaping her mouth. “But…orange crayon?” She
asks, her eyes coming back down to meet mine. She pushes from my arms just enough to reach her backpack by her feet, pulling the small crayon from the bottom. It’s brand new, probably from a box she had to buy just to get it. And I can’t help but start to chuckle, my lips hurting from trying to hold my laughter in.
“Damn it,” I yell, my arms limp at my sides and my face parallel to the sky. When I look back at Nolan, I can tell she’s confused, and maybe a little worried. “Oh, it’s nothing really. I just owe Sarah twenty bucks.”
She’s still staring at me, and now she looks suspicious. Crap, that’s not the direction I want tonight to go.
“Sarah said you’d pack anything I told you to, and I didn’t think you would. You know, because you’re so pigheaded,” I say, pulling her hair lightly. “I threw that on the list as a test, and she won!”
I bend down and open up the cooler I brought, pulling out a few sandwiches and fruit slices I prepped for dinner, but quickly notice that Nolan’s still staring at me, her bottom lip sucked in tightly.
“I could just sort of pretend I didn’t bring it, you know,” she says, willing to lie just so I can win a stupid twenty-dollar bet. I look at the crayon, then to her, and smile, tucking it into my pocket with the flashlight. “No, that’s ok. I don’t go back on my bets,” I say, pressing my thumb to her lip. I hand her a paper plate with half a sandwich on it, and we both kneel down on my sleeping bag for our makeshift picnic.
Once our dinner is done, we take a small hike by flashlight, not as far as I wanted to go, but I didn’t really think out this whole walking over loose stones and tree roots in the dark thing. More than once, I lose my footing. I’m extra careful to go slow for Nolan.
We make it to the small lake—the same one I fished at with my dad as a kid—and skip stones across the water. We get a little carried away at the water’s edge, splashing water and kicking our feet in with our shoes in our hands. When Nolan starts to physically shiver, I get her out, wrapping her legs around my front and carrying her back to the campsite. I sit her down, lying on the sleeping bag next to her, my head resting on my elbow while I watch her look at the sky.
