Puddle Jumping

by Amber L. Johnson

  Blake was tall and tan, with kind of a little faux-hawk on top of his head. I wondered if he had a tattoo . . . a piercing or something equally as exotic as his Hawaiian roots. I wondered exactly how old he was, because he had a baby face but this really sick looking manly body. He probably worked out five times a week. There was a seventy - thirty chance that he was in his mid-twenties.

  He had an easy smile and reminded me of one of those guys who winks after they say something they think you will think is cute. I thanked him for taking pity on me and linked my arm through his, stopping in front of the photographer to give a half-hearted smile before we stepped through the door and into the frenzy of bouncing bodies who just the day before had resembled people I went to school with.

  Now half of the girls looked like pageant queens and the other half looked like hookers.

  I wondered which one I resembled.

  Blake had no problem offering me pity dances and getting me a drink here and there. As it was, I was trying to have fun, no matter how hollow my chest felt.

  Prom King and Queen were announced and I got choked up when Quinn and Sawyer won, taking their crowns and kissing each other in front of the entire student body. It meant something. It just . . . did. Regardless of who they were in a classroom, they were Quinn and Sawyer. Everyone knew them. They were equal opportunity in every last way.

  After they had their dance, Harper pulled me to the side to tell me she was headed out front for a smoke with Blake. Derek had made a friend or two at the table where we’d stashed all our stuff and I had to laugh that he was chatting up a snobby cheerleader named Claire. The Claire of Chlam-Face fame.

  I went outside with Harper because I had nothing better to do and I figured it could help clear my head a little. I’ll be honest, I was straight up moping.

  She and Blake stood off to the side of the hotel, down an alley, smoking cigarettes and kissing and I felt like a third wheel, but it looked like that was the theme of the evening anyway. It was colder than I expected and I hadn’t brought a jacket, so I was doing that weird self-hug, watching the way the wind was making my dress whip around my feet. That’s why I didn’t notice Blake approaching me and hanging his jacket over my arms. I didn’t notice until I looked up and he was squinting away from the smoke coming out of the cigarette hanging from his lips as he put it on my shoulders.

  I told him thanks and he smiled, taking the cig in his fingers and tapping it. I remember watching the way the ashes dipped and lifted in the wind. It was a little poetic, in a way. If you’re into that kind of stuff.

  Harper was on the cell with her mom, so he and I were chatting, listening as the music from the dance bled through every crack in the building. It was so loud. So damn loud.

  And maybe that was why I wasn’t paying attention to my phone in my little clutch.

  Or maybe it was how loud the wind was in my ears and that’s why I didn’t hear anyone calling my name from the street.

  Why I didn’t hear footsteps.

  Perhaps it was why I didn’t give any thought to how close I was to Blake or how his hands were rubbing my arms up and down in an attempt to warm me as we waited for his date to get off the phone.

  Nope.

  I didn’t hear any of that.

  But I did see Colton’s fist before it collided with Blake’s jaw.

  In retrospect, I should have known that Colton seeing me with another guy would set him off. But I hadn’t heard Sheila call. I didn’t know Colton had changed clothes at work and his intern friend Keith was walking him to meet me. I didn’t know any of that. All I knew was I was at my prom with my limited amount of friends, waiting for my boyfriend who appeared out of nowhere to defend me for no reason whatsoever.

  The fallout was quick, with Colton jumping on Blake and throwing him to the ground, while Blake tried to push him off, shouting profanities and me yelling for them both to stop and trying to explain Colton was different . . . something I never wanted to say before in my entire life, but Blake had no idea and I hadn’t said anything to him about my boyfriend.

  Plus, I didn’t even know if he was going to show!

  They rolled around on the concrete until Blake got the dominant position, pinning Colton beneath him and folding his arms against his chest while my boyfriend struggled and yelled out words that I’d never heard him use before.

  With as embarrassed as I should have been . . . with as angry as it should have made me . . . as much as I know I should have yelled at him and walked away from it all . . . I couldn’t

  He was my Colton.

  The pressure on his chest seemed to give him the squeeze he needed to focus and calm down while I got on my knees, cold concrete and even colder wind chilling me to the bone, to speak into his ear. I explained as factually as I could that Blake was Harper’s date and he had lent me his jacket because I was cold.

  I wanted to say, ‘because you weren’t here’.

  ‘Because I couldn’t have your coat’.

  ‘Because you may not have offered it to me . . .’

  Instead, I placed my hand firmly on his forehead and whispered for him to look at my face and listen to me.

  Blake got carefully off him, stepping back and rubbing his jaw a little. And Harper just looked on like she was partially impressed and partially terrified.

  When Colton finally pulled himself to his feet, his suit rumpled and dirty . . . my corsage crushed and falling apart on the ground . . . my dress stained from the sidewalk . . . he had an appropriate look of remorse on his face.

  “We walked.” He pointed to someone standing off to the side of the scene.

  “I brought him over from the museum to make sure he got here.” The stranger took a moment before extending his hand to mine. “I’m Keith. I take it you must be Lilly?”

  I only nodded.

  He looked me over from head to toe and gave a small smile. “I can see why he’d fight for you.”

  That was the first time I lost patience with our relationship. Not because Colton was who he was . . . is who he is . . . but because it occurred to me if anyone on the outside was looking in and didn’t know about us, it looked like Colton was just a bad boyfriend. All of the gentle and sweet things between us were in private. The screw-ups were public. And, maybe I was worn out from being the understanding one, but it really felt like we’d been together long enough to be able to sit down and have a talk about how his actions that night made me feel.

  I silently took us to our hotel room, not even bothering to say anything to any of the rest of our friends. Harper knew where we were going and she could relay the message if it needed to be repeated. Colton was quiet, too, and just followed me into the room. No questions asked. It was that type of trust in him that made my heart hurt so badly.

  I knew I needed a moment to gather myself, so I went into the bathroom to change into some pajamas, not remembering I had packed yet another stupid little nightie thing instead of regular shorts and a t-shirt. It hardly seemed appropriate, so I opted for the underwear I had packed for the following day and an undershirt, pulling my stupid hair down and practically screaming at the irritating amounts of bobby pins used to keep it in place. My overly hair-sprayed locks went up into a sloppy poof on top of my head and I washed my face of all of the useless make-up I didn’t need to face the guy I loved.

  When I walked out of the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed. Shoes off. Jacket discarded. Staring at the wall.

  He took a deep breath and continued to focus there. “Lilly. Sometimes I don’t think I have the capacity to be what you need in a significant other.”

  “Okay. Well, I feel that way about me sometimes.” I was being honest as I crawled across the comforter to sit next to him and stare at the same spot he was.

  He shifted on the bed and touched my leg with his fingertips, roaming gently across my kneecap. “I certainly don’t feel that way about you. You’ve always been patient.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. But it’s hard.”


  His silence let me know he wanted me to explain further.

  “Look,” I started, guarding my heart as best I could to not burst into tears, “tonight was special to me. And you weren’t here.”

  “I was asked to stay late at work.”

  I finally chanced a look into his eyes. “But you promised me first. Do you remember that? I specifically asked you if you wanted to go to prom with me and you said yes. You said yes, Colton.”

  If ‘realization’ actually had a look, it would be the one that flashed across his face at that moment. “I see.”

  “Do you see?” I shifted to sit and face him. “It was important to me because we haven’t seen each other very much lately because of your new job. It was important because we’re graduating soon. I wanted us to spend time together with our friends. Because friendship is important.”

  “Friendship is important to me. You’re important to me.”

  “And you’re important to me. So very important. I want to spend any little bit of time I can with you. I subjected myself to dressing up and doing my hair and, just, all of this damn effort . . .” Tears really were stinging my eyes by that point. Until his hand cupped my chin.

  “It was unnecessary.”

  “To you.” I looked at his eyes this time. “It was unnecessary to you. Not to me. This was important to me. And I need you . . . to make me important. To you.”

  “You’ve always been important.”

  “I’ve always been important here,” finger to his heart, “and here,” finger to his head. “But I need to be important all over. Not just when we’re alone. Not just when you feel like you have time. I am just as important as your job. And you made a promise to me you would be here at prom. I’ve overlooked other things, but tonight, I need you to understand that my feelings are hurt and I want your promises to me to be just as important as your promises to other people. If you say you’re going to do something with me, then do it.”

  My chest felt tight.

  “I understand.”

  Just like that. It was said, so it must be done. I wasn’t forcing him to do anything other than keep his word.

  And that’s when it happened.

  “I love you, Colton. I do. And I want us to be together.”

  His silence was piercing and my heartbeat in my ears was threatening to make me go deaf. But I had to give him the benefit.

  “Don’t say it back, okay? I just want you to know that I . . . love you.”

  Colton’s mouth started to open and then closed slowly, his hand taking mine in his as he stared down at it. I closed my eyes and willed my anxiety away, feeling his fingers trace over my skin. A pattern. Soft lines of his fingers playing over the top of my hand.

  Like a paint brush stroking my skin.

  I didn’t need him to say it out loud. He’d told me with his touch. His actions, over his words, solidified what I needed in my heart.

  From that point on, Colton did what he said he would do. If we made plans, he kept them. His mom saw to it if it looked like he was going in another direction. And he put me first, which felt amazing. It wasn’t forced. I just had to set exact expectations. Say what I meant. Be literal.

  We had a new understanding, and it worked.

  The last three weeks of school flew by. Between studying for finals and actually taking them, my head was focused elsewhere. Colton and I studied together whenever we could; in person, on the computer, or on the phone.

  I accepted our relationship for what it was: beautifully sweet. We were taking our time. It was based on more than sex, unlike other people we knew. Even if some of them were already doing more, it didn’t matter to me. My high school memories didn’t need to include that for me to be happy.

  I did great on my finals.

  Colton did, too, obviously.

  He did not stay late at work the day of graduation. He was right there in the bleachers to accept his diploma. It was bittersweet to hug Quinn afterward. It was more so to be caught up in Sawyer’s arms as he swung me around like a rag doll, his graduation gown trapping me in the blinding red of the material.

  Colton did not punch Sawyer. He trusted him. And he would miss them, too. I was sure of it.

  Just like they’d miss us.

  It was such an achievement and I could not have been more proud when I got to see my boyfriend accept his diploma in front of so many people and he didn’t have one of his ‘moments’.

  It felt like everything was finally coming together.

  The start of something new for all of us.

  * * *

  Longer days bring longer nights and with it there’s usually boredom. But not this time.

  We were all so busy. It seemed like the months rushed by much faster than I could have imagined. Don’t get me wrong, it was good. It just backed up that old saying that time flies when you’re having fun.

  Colton and I found a great little rhythm, and it seemed like he was less stressed without being in school. He was thriving at the museum, and focusing on his artwork, as well as spending time with our friends and me. But it was obvious our time alone was what he liked the most.

  I had to agree.

  When the weather would permit, we spent a lot of our time outside. Some of my best memories over the summer were of us in these secluded trees by the edge of a stream in the woods behind his house. A place where I could sit and read books while he painted.

  Watching him paint in the open was beautiful. He seemed to capture the colors of nature so perfectly and it was almost magical to see him get lost in what he loved so much. By then, the silence between us was comfortable. We had all the time in the world, it seemed.

  Those months made me appreciate a lot of things I had probably taken for granted for a long, long time.

  John Lennon once said life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. He was pretty awesome and I get what he meant now.

  I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve been writing about my relationship with Colton. Aside from the obvious hurdles we’d faced. Aside from the fact we’re young. There has to be more to the story, right?

  Sometimes change makes you sit up and pay attention, opening your eyes to so many new things, it’s as if you’d been asleep for the first eighteen years of your life.

  Plans change.

  Life changes.

  And as an after effect, love changes, too.

  * * *

  I helped plan his eighteenth birthday party with Sheila. Obviously, a surprise party wasn’t going to work, so we made sure to have plans set in stone and told him well in advance and that it was a big deal for us to celebrate the fact he was amazing, alive, and in our lives.

  Of course, it rained on his birthday and the plans we’d made had to be altered because we couldn’t be outside for a barbecue in a downpour. His mom and I were clearly more disappointed than he was about things not going over as well as we hoped. But all our friends were there and we kept the amount of guests to a minimum so it could be intimate. So it would mean something.

  He seemed to genuinely have a good time, and Sheila kissed me on the head as she was cleaning up while the last of the guests were preparing to leave. She didn’t need to say it out loud, but it was obvious Colton hadn’t had a birthday party with friends in attendance ever. The fact we had to make a list of who to invite in order to keep the numbers low made her teary eyed.

  I’ll admit . . . it made me a little teary eyed, too.

  After everyone left, the rain let up to almost nothing and I asked Colton if he wanted to take a walk.

  Honestly, I just wanted some alone time with him on his birthday and I would take anything I could get. We set out down the street, hand in hand, walking the sidewalk in silence as the night turned darker. And it suddenly dawned on me what his birthday meant in terms of our relationship.

  “We’re the same age, now.” I laughed and held his hand tighter.

  “Did that bother you?” he asked, his head tilting in a really cute wa
y.

  I shook my head. “No. I just like we’re the same age right now.”

  “Technically, you are still older than me by quite a few months . . .” he started and I cut him off with a playful squeeze to his shoulder.

  “I don’t care about technicalities. We’re the same age. Don’t argue.”

  It had gotten easier over time. He was still very literal and always would be, but if I stated my case well enough, he would find the humor. We walked to the edge of the woods and I leaned against an old tree that was huge, with thick leaves dripping rain all down on the top of my head. But watching Colton in the moonlight made any discomfort I had seem so insignificant, that, at some point, I just stopped paying attention to it all together.

  I whispered into his ear I loved him and told him Happy Birthday, promising him the next one would be even better. And the one after that. I kissed him until I was sure the moon was jealous.

  Then, all at once, the moonlight disappeared and the skies opened with a torrential downpour. Forget being upset about the raindrops from the tree leaves. I was a drowned rat, laughing hysterically as buckets and buckets fell from the sky.

  And as lightning flashed overhead followed by thunder so loud it made the ground beneath my feet shake, I caught a glimpse of that child-like wonder on Colton’s face that he’d had all those years ago on the first day I went over to his house to pretend to babysit him.

  This time he didn’t cover his ears. Instead he grabbed my hand and started to run, jumping over puddles as we raced back to his house.

  I love that memory.

  Maybe the most.

  * * *

  Summer was almost over and I was so focused, had tunnel vision so badly, I must not have been paying attention. To any of it. Because now when I look back on it, there were little clues, I think.

  I think there were.

  Mrs. Neely called and asked me to invite my family over for a cook-out at their house. It was short notice, which was unexpected. But she was really excited about it, encouraging me to bring our friends as well. It didn’t seem all out of the ordinary to invite them anymore. We just usually had more than a day’s notice.