Beatless

by Amber L. Johnson

  His arms flailed and he scooted away from me, his upper body almost halfway out the window in an attempt to escape. I finally let him go and he settled back into the seat begrudgingly, giving me a hilariously dirty look. “If you tell anybody . . .”

  “It’ll be our little secret,” I promised.

  The drive from the school parking lot to my house was carefree while we listened to the radio and I tried my best not to stall out at the multiple stop signs that lined the road. Once in the driveway, I checked for any sign of Sam, but again, she wasn’t there. “I thought maybe you’d get to meet my aunt, but she’s gone a lot lately. She’s been acting so weird.”

  Tucker leaned forward and gazed up at my house. “Like how?”

  “I don’t know. You’d have to know how she used to be to understand. I know she’s sad and it’s not easy. But I’ll find her watching the same movie that she’s already watched a thousand times since she moved back in. Or she’ll wander around the house like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Yesterday she called me Myra. Not that it means anything because my family has a habit of interchanging people’s names, but I’ve never known Sam to do it. I chalked it up to her missing my mom and getting it wrong.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Honestly, I wanted to show her that I finally got the car to go.” I smiled and brushed the thoughts of Sam aside. “Whatever. Come in and I’ll make a snack. Sam’s actually good at keeping the fridge stocked.”

  He trailed behind and it didn’t occur to me until I’d pulled a box of taquitos from the freezer that he’d never been in my house. While removing the wrapper, I offhandedly offered, “Want the grand tour?” It was something that my mom had said so many times to guests that I didn’t even realize that I’d repeated it until he accepted.

  We walked the halls and I showed him around, shrugging as I opened doors like it wasn’t a big deal and why had I offered to do this again? We climbed the stairs and for the first time since we’d been at his house, I felt nervous to be alone with him. “This is mine,” I said quietly and opened the door to turn on the light.

  The switch was attached to the lights on the far wall, as well as my lamp, and the darkened walls glowed lighter blue around the bulbs. He leaned into the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed and hands digging deep into his jean pockets.

  “What? Did you expect pink and glitter and . . .”

  “No. I expected exactly this. It’s weird.”

  “What do you mean?” I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not.

  He slipped by me and walked to the window, peeking out through the blinds before turning to regard everything with a sweeping gaze. “I mean, when I imagined where you slept or did your homework – when I imagined what your room would look like, this was exactly what I had in my brain. Blue walls and everything.” He rested his butt on my desk and crossed his arms. “It’s just so Mallory.”

  “Wow. My entire name from your mouth.”

  He glowered. “I call you Mallory.”

  “No, you call me Mal. Not that I mind. It’s just weird to hear it.”

  Tucker nodded and looked away, his attention diverted to the bed for a second before he straightened up and sauntered over to my bedside table. He took liberties everywhere he went, so it came as no surprise when he shifted his shoes off his feet and started to play with the knobs on the radio. Music filtered through the speakers and I tried to remember the last time I’d actually used the radio on my alarm clock.

  He tapped his fingers against his pockets, something I noticed he did when he was trying not to come across as nervous.

  I stood awkwardly to the side of my desk, watching the way he was appraising everything, like he was trying to memorize my belongings. The song on the radio was one that I liked and I didn’t even notice I was swaying until he’d made a circuit around the room and was standing in front of me. He raised his eyebrows and reached over to place his hands on my shoulders, sliding them down the tiniest bit so that his thumbs rested just out of reach of my bra cups through my shirt.

  “What?” I laughed and uncrossed my arms letting them hang uncomfortably.

  The left side of his mouth lifted and he shook his head the tiniest bit before sliding his palms down my arms to my wrists until he had my hands in his. He shifted so that we were palm to palm and slowly lifted them to chest level, his eyes taking in how we fit together. How his fingertips sat at least an inch above my own. I stood still, held in place with rapt fascination. The heat from his touch was making my hands and arms tingle.

  He stepped into me, pressing our palms between us, and then let my right hand go to place his hand on my waist. I melted into him, allowing my eyes to close as he swayed and I followed. His fingers moved along the top of my shorts and when he’d found where my shirt started, they slipped upwards, softly caressing the skin above the waistband.

  I exhaled in surprise, never opening my eyes but trying to concentrate on getting a handle on the way my heart was thundering in my chest. He had to be able to feel it there between us.

  “Hey,” he whispered just next to my ear.

  “Hmm?”

  He stepped back and I followed, almost tripping in the unexpected space between us. Tucker let go of my hand and reached by me to grab something off my board. “You kept this?”

  My mouth went dry and I reached out to snatch it back but he held it above his head, just out of my reach. “So? I found it before school started while I was cleaning my room.”

  “But you kept it.”

  “On accident.” God, it was so embarrassing the way he was looking at me.

  “I really did make this, you know. I don’t think you believed me when I told you.” His gaze roamed the plastic beads, his thumb sliding over them as he reminisced. “I actually thought this,” he shook it at me, “was reason you stopped talking to me.”

  “Well, that’s stupid. It was just a bracelet.”

  A small smile played across his lips while he thought carefully over his next words. He inhaled like I was about to hear something very important. “I was going to ask you out that day.”

  “What? You’re lying. When I was in seventh grade?”

  His eyes met mine. “Yeah. But the bus came and I lost my nerve. Then the next day one of the guys I was playing basketball with in P.E. was talking shit about seeing us out by the tree – asking if we’d done it and making fun of me because you were a year younger - just saying bullshit. So I punched him. It was an easy decision to make.”

  My heart couldn’t have been beating any faster but somehow it accelerated to an uncomfortable cadence. “I had no idea. You got suspended because of me?”

  “Not just you. Us, I guess. I didn’t want people saying that about you. We hadn’t even kissed or anything . . .”

  “Hadn’t?”

  He leveled me with his gaze. “Haven’t.”

  “We could change that,” I whispered.

  There was hesitation in his step as he closed the distance between us, placing his palms down on each side of my hips. His face was dipped toward mine, his lips so close that if I were to exhale deeply we’d be touching. He breathed out slowly and I closed my eyes, my entire body tingling with anticipation, feeling lightheaded as I waited.

  And then . . .

  "Mal?" Sam's voice slammed up the stairwell with such force that Tucker jumped back at least four feet from where we'd just been, his heels landing just short of the end of my bed.

  My hands were shaking and I pulled at the hem of my shirt, avoiding eye contact as I crossed to the door. "Yeah?"

  "There's a sheet of snacks practically on fire in the oven. Did you want it charred or . . ." She stopped short when she got to the doorway. Her eyes locked on the boy standing at the foot of my bed, shoeless and ruby red around his jaw. His hands were shoved into his pockets and he looked like he was afraid to swallow. Sam's lips twitched and she gave a little salute. "Tucker. Nice to see you."

  He mumbled something back at her but I coul
dn't hear it because of the ringing in my ears.

  "I drove the car today," I blurted out, unsuccessful in my attempt to play it cool.

  She smiled and raised a hand to brush my hair from shoulder. "See? I knew you could do it. And just in time because my night vision has gone to hell." She tilted her head and looked between me and Tucker. "You hungry?"

  "Sure."

  "Good. You can drive to Wang's." She caught the look on my face and snickered. "Don’t worry. We can take my car." With that she turned and marched back down the stairs.

  "Sorry," I started but Tucker shook his head and exhaled, moving to put his shoes back on. "So. Dinner with my aunt, then? I apologize in advance."

  ***

  Over dumplings and General Tso's chicken, Sam grilled Tucker like he was in a police interrogation room. He was surprisingly forthcoming with his answers, and much more polite than I had anticipated. It's not like I thought he'd be a jerk but he was a guy with a reputation for not caring about authority. In school, at least. He sat next to me with a napkin on his lap, our knees touching every once in a while when he shifted to explain something to my aunt.

  "Do you have plans to go to another school?"

  Tucker studied the food on his plate while he contemplated his answer. "I don't have plans right now. We can't exactly afford for me to go anywhere else, and I help with my sister when my dad needs to work. So I figured I'd stick around here for a bit. Find another job. Work on . . . other things." His fingers worried his ear again and I resisted the urge to pull his hand into my lap.

  "He can be anything he wants to. He's so talented. Musically, I mean."

  "Is that so?" Sam glanced over at me, just her eyes visible over the top of her cup of hot tea. But I knew she was smiling.

  Tucker's phone rang and he excused himself apologetically, rising to take the call. When he was out of hearing distance, Sam leaned back and placed her cup down.

  "What?" I slid the remains of my food to one side of my plate.

  "I was just wondering if I should take your door off the hinges again."

  “Nothing happened.”

  “His shoes were off.”

  “He always takes his shoes off. It’s his thing.”

  She looked skeptical. “Is that so? Are his parents Japanese, or –“

  Tucker reappeared at the table, his face a little strained. "I'm sorry, but that was my sister and I need to go home."

  "No problem." Sam stood, swaying a little and catching her balance with the table top.

  I exchanged a look with Tucker and he just shrugged a little. So we left and the ride home wasn't as easy going as the other times I'd been in the car with him. It was quiet and the only sound was the wind from the crack in Sam's window. When we got to the house she said goodbye to Tucker and headed inside, leaving the two of us alone in the driveway.

  "I like her," he said quietly, like he was afraid she'd hear.

  "I wish you could have met her before. She's pretty much my favorite relative."

  He reached into his pocket for his keys and dangled them from his finger. "I'm sorry to cut it short."

  "It's okay."

  For a second he looked like he was going to just say goodbye and walk away, but then he turned fully toward me and placed his hands on my shoulders to pull me into a gentle hug. I wrapped my arms around his middle and pressed my face to his chest, closing my eyes to inhale deeply. Beneath the smell of the Chinese restaurant, I could make out the notes of his deodorant and soap, and I wanted to bottle it up for later. Not the smell of MSG. The other stuff. The boy smell.

  "Meet me at my house tomorrow and I'll drive us to rehearsal. You can leave your car there."

  "I think that piece of crap can stay at your house for the rest of my life for all I care." I laughed and tightened my hold on him. Suddenly, I didn't want to let him go. "But, yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

  "Okay," he said quietly. And then very sweetly, he placed a kiss on top of my head.

  My entire body lit up from my toes to the part in my hair, and when he pulled away to let me go, I was sure that my body was actually on fire. Could he tell?

  He strolled down the driveway slowly and drove off into the night, leaving me with a tight feeling in my chest. Like maybe we'd crossed some sort of fragile line that, somewhere along the way, had already started to bend.

  Mal,

  If I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes, I probably wouldn't have believed it. The way that boy looks at you? God. And you're finally looking at him like that, too. Like you can see him for the first time. The minute I saw him in the restaurant that day, I knew. He knew. It's about time you caught up.

  Jason never looked at me that way. Not even on our wedding day. My memories are a little hazy, but that I remember. He used to tell me that I was broken. And I guess I was. In a lot of ways. Not my fault. Not his. It was just reality.

  But once upon a time there was a boy who didn't look at me like I was damaged. He saw all my pieces and wanted to put them together with his bare hands. As if I was worth the effort. But I said no because I didn't think he was the right one. Timing or whatever, I guess. Maybe I'm just an idiot and couldn't hear my heart over my head.

  I wish I had said yes. I think it would have been easier.

  Don't listen to your head. Your heart is so much louder. Can you hear the way it beats around him?

  Sam

  ~*~7~*~

  Rehearsal was as bumpy as I expected. We brainstormed more song ideas that could be integrated based on their melody or chorus; how we could incorporate the Mac into our show. Our show sounded so foreign - but it was true. The group threw out names like Rihanna and Ellie Goulding or One Republic and Florence and the Machine. Coldplay and Imagine Dragons. Tucker kept naming musicians while Berkley would counter with different ones. I just sat on the side making notes on a pad of paper to keep everything in order.

  Eventually we had to take a break and Tucker went off with Marcus to go order food that Berkley would inevitably pay for because the rest of us didn't come from as much money as she did. Sara had her nose stuck in a book, trying to get some homework in because she desperately wanted to keep her grades up so she could secure her scholarship.

  I'd been studying all the time, too . . . between the rest of the activities I now had on my plate. There was little doubt in my mind that I'd have good enough grades to apply for a grant. But a small voice in the back of my mind wondered if the boy I'd grown so fond of was planning the same.

  Berkley snagged my shirt and yanked me after her, up two flights of stairs to her enormous bedroom. It was light pink and everything was covered in some sort of lace, her daybed dripping with it like a doily. Pictures covered every flat surface and it made my stomach sink a little because I knew she was pretty popular in certain groups, but it hadn't occurred to me that she was that popular. It brought back memories that I immediately pushed aside.

  She crossed the room to a giant walk-in closet, rambling the entire time about how she was a huge fan of vintage fashion, especially clothes from the nineties. There was a store in town that specialized in that type of thing and she went there often, gaining a healthy collection of flannel and baby doll dresses.

  "When I get to college, I'm gonna rock the shit out of this stuff." She eyed me and turned to hold out a denim skirt that looked to be about four inches long. "Isn't it awesome? There are shorts sewn inside of it. My mom calls it a skort."

  "Wow." I laughed and took it from her hands, trying not to look inside at what size the tag said it was.

  "So . . . don't take this the wrong way, but our first time out as Beatless is going to be a big deal."

  "Why would I take that the wrong way?" I suddenly felt like I needed to sit down. Like she was going to say I wasn't good enough. Just like everyone else in my life. The back of my legs hit her bed and I slowly sank onto her comforter.

  "It's not that I don't think you have style. You dress completely fine. I was just wondering if you wan
ted to borrow something for that night. I have so much and . . . you know . . . being on stage and everything. I have clothes you can borrow."

  I exhaled so forcefully that it was followed by a really loud snort. "Oh God, I thought you were going to tell me you didn't want me to sing."

  Her eyes crinkled and she tossed her head back to laugh. "No! I think you're great. And so does everyone else." She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head. "Especially you know who."

  I feigned innocence. "Marcus?"

  "No."

  I nodded and leaned back on my elbows, swinging my feet against her carpet. "Sara."

  "You're getting warmer." She moved to sit next to me on the bed. "Have you kissed yet?"

  My heartbeat picked up its pace. “No."

  "It’s only a matter of time. We can all see it." She crossed back over to the closet again. "Let's give him a reason to make a move."

  Thirty minutes later I had a large Victoria's Secret bag full of what she deemed stage-acceptable and we were eating in the rehearsal space again.

  "We only have this week to get everything right," Marcus said quietly, looking down at his paper plate. "I'm worried that it’ll be a disaster."

  "With this group? Never." Tucker made eye contact with me and nodded. "We go up there and do what we do. Which is kick ass."

  “And if that doesn't work, then we start auditioning drummers immediately." Sara chimed in, making us all laugh at how blunt she was.

  "I think it's going to be fine. Plus, we only have a couple more times that we can do this together. Next semester . . ." Berkley’s voice floated off as we all turned to stare at her. She took a deep breath and put her fork down to cross her hands on the table. "I got early admittance. Next semester was pretty much just going to be a bunch of electives for me because I already have all of my classes done. That summer school session that my parents insisted on gave me the opportunity to graduate early. So I'm taking it."

  "Well shit," Sara mumbled.

  The silence was thick as we all contemplated the heaviness of her words.