Escape the Doubt

by Andrea Michelle

  Take the bait. Take the bait.

  Riley: WHY IS THAT?

  She took the bait.

  Me: BC SHE SHARED YOUR BED WITH YOU

  A few minutes go by with no response, and I fear I crossed the line but then my phone pings.

  Riley: *BLUSH

  There it is. She is thinking about it.

  Josh: MY FAV SHADE ;)

  Riley: I KNOW ;)

  I head outside to get some air. I need to come up with a plan to move things forward with Riley besides flirting. Now that she is free there is nothing holding me back.

  CHAPTER 10

  There is nothing worse than your heart and your mind fighting against each other. Mine were in constant battle lately. My heart wanted Josh. I knew I could have him. He was making it clear that he had feelings for me, but my mind believed he wasn’t available for the taking. I never wanted to be the other girl.

  Every memory, every reason why I loved him, why I still love him, every moment that I let pass me by was haunting my thoughts. All the times that I could have made a different decision and been with Josh, not with Dean.

  I just knew the little broken pieces that were already a part of me would become shattered and unfixable if I opened up and lost his friendship. And here I was, never having done so and broken into slivered pieces anyway.

  When I wake up this morning to sweet purring next to my pillow, I feel a complete sense of joy, a joy that Josh gave me. I send him a text, and the series of text that follow only make my mind more confused, yet intrigued.

  He keeps throwing these hints out there, leaving little suggestions in my head.

  I head to the kitchen finding a note on the fridge telling me my mom and Tatum went to town for groceries. I sit on the couch twiddling my thumbs, petting Tink and flipping through the channels, aimlessly searching for something and nothing. All of my thoughts go back to my Josh situation. Being in love was the pits.

  My mom walks through the front door with groceries overflowing her hands, Tatum as well, “Is there more?” I ask.

  “In the trunk.” My mom nods to the door.

  “I’ll get the rest,” I tell her.

  I am still in my PJ’s, turquoise plaid shorts, a black cami without a bra and bare feet. I leave Tink sitting on the couch, head down the steps of our front porch, and to the concrete driveway to grab the bags left in the trunk. My mom has an issue with parking in the garage, something about my dad’s tools and where his truck used to be. I get it.

  There is just one bag left, a bag full of canned goods. I grab it and shut the trunk.

  I am walking back toward the steps when I see Josh sitting on the front steps of his porch. He doesn’t see me, his head buried in his phone. Distracted seeing him there without a shirt, I lose my footing and stub my big toe on the concrete.

  “FUCK!” I yell. Oh damn, it hurts like a mother. Ouch, Ouch, Ouch!

  “Nice mouth.” Josh says, locking eyes with me.

  I am hopping around like an idiot holding my toe. Not thinking, I drop the bag of canned goods in my other hand and—with all the amazing luck in the world—it falls on my uninjured foot.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter bending over humiliated and in pain.

  “Problems, princess?” he laughs at my clumsiness.

  I can hear the rustle of the grass as Josh walks over to where I am hunched over in pain. I see his bare feet first. Sexy. My eyes leisurely move up his body as I slowly begin to stand straight. Ah hell! He has on running shorts low on his hips, no shirt. All I see is his chiseled chest, sweetly sculpted with perfection, the guitar tattoo across his arm wrapped in roses and thorns, his large biceps are begging for my hands to hold them, to strum those guitar strings. My breath catches and my eyes trail back down where his shorts are hanging low on his hips, and I see that “V” that leads to his— Oh my!

  “Enjoying the view, pretty girl? I know I am,” Josh says, breaking me from my trance of sightseeing.

  My eyes snap to his, my back straightens. “Huh? What?” I breathe and find his eyes on my chest where my headlights are on display. Typical.

  He blinks dazedly a few times then he laughs, and kneels down before me. “Let me see?” he says gently tapping on my ankle for me to lift.

  It hurts like a bitch. He is kneeling down on one knee, and I inwardly gasp at the image of him like this before me. It makes my heart flutter and dance a little. I lift my hurt foot although I am not sure which toe is hurting the worst at the moment. Suddenly, I’m feeling numb and a little tingly. His eyes meet mine briefly before he becomes Dr. Parker and analyzes my embarrassment.

  “It’s bleeding a little. What got you so frazzled, Riley?” He looks up at me knowingly with those beautiful pools of honey and emerald. The sun is dancing in them, making them glitter and possess me. My heart begins to race and skip.

  “I, uh, I don’t know. I just lost my balance.” I stutter and lie through my teeth.

  He picks up the grocery bag and starts to carry it inside for me. “Let me help you out with that,” he tells me and taps my nose.

  Josh and I make our way to the kitchen where my mom is unloading the groceries with Tatum.

  “Well, hello, Joshua.” She greets him with a curious smile.

  “Hi, Mrs. Shaw. How are you?” He asks placing the canned goods into the pantry, ever the helper.

  “I’m good, honey. What brings you by this lovely morning?” She asks him, but her eyes are on me encouragingly.

  “Well, actually...I was just sitting outside getting some air, when your daughter here forgot how to use her feet.” He chuckles at my clumsiness. My mom and Tatum both look confused.

  “I stubbed my toe,” I say. “It’s all good.”

  “And then the can of green beans attacked her other foot. Can you believe that?” He smirks.

  I shove at him and begin helping my mom put the groceries away. “Would you shut up?” I tell him in my most ‘I mean business’ voice, but I know my face is telling him I’m playing. “You are soooo funny, Josh.”

  Tatum giggles. “Sounds sarcastic, Josh.”

  He just grins at me, and I grin at him. Playful Josh is my favorite Josh of all.

  My mom shoo’s us away with a flick of her wrist and a knowing grin. “I got this. You kids run along,” she says smiling a contented smile.

  “Can I go next door?” Tatum asks my mom, followed by an always ‘yes.’

  “I swear if I let her, she would move next door,” my mom tells us before we walk away.

  Josh laughs. “Well, if that is the case then I am moving in with y’all. No way could I survive two fourteen-year-old females. That is just too much estrogen and drama.” Images of Josh and me sharing a room pop into my mind, and I fidget where I stand.

  Josh went to my bedroom while I grabbed a Band-Aid from the bathroom cabinet. When I step back into my room, I find him standing by my dresser, reading the poem I had written on my mirror with a sharpie.

  THE AIR I BREATHE IS FILLED WITH HIS SCENT

  THE MUSIC SPEAKS EVERYTHING I MEANT

  MEANT TO SAY, BUT NEVER DID TELL YOU

  YOU HAUNT ME WHERE I LIE ALONE WITHOUT YOU

  FEELING YOUR TOUCH AS IT VANISHES AWAY

  MY OWN HEART IS THE ONE I BETRAYED

  I just watch him for a moment. His tanned skin glistens from the sun filtering through my window. His lean muscles are gorgeous. He has his hand lifted and is tracing the lines along a heart I drew last night.

  It is two broken halves. One is black, and the other is red. It felt like my own heart, broken with half of it dead and unwilling to love, the other half alive and wanting to grab onto it forever.

  “You really do write lovely words,” he says lifting his gaze to mine. “They are sad words, a little misguided but beautiful all the same,” he continues.

  “Thank you.” I climb onto my bed noticing my notebook sitting there—the notebook—with my poem.

  “When did this get here?” I ask him.

 
“I handed it back to Tatum this morning before they left. She must have brought it inside.” He explains, and I nod.

  He starts looking around my room. “Where is Tink?” He asks.

  I jump up. “Oh crap! I left her on the couch when I was getting the groceries.”

  He goes to the door. “I’ll go get her. Be right back,” he says.

  I smile and then my eyes are tracked to my notebook. I flip it open to my poem except the page is missing—ripped out. He must have kept it. I flip through the pages, and sure enough, it’s gone, but then I notice something. He left me his own message, his own poem on one of the dividers of my five-subject notebook.

  HER SMILE BRIGHTENS MY DAY LIKE SUNSHINE

  ONE DAY I HOPE TO CALL HER MINE

  I GET LOST ON THE BEACH IN HER EYES

  SHE IS BEAUTIFUL AND NEVER EVEN TRIES

  I SEE WHAT SHE KEEPS HIDDEN BENEATH

  JUST A MOMENT IS ALL THAT WE NEED

  A SONG TO EXPLAIN ALL SHE MEANS TO ME

  Oh, my God! I’m out of breath—out of words. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want him to know I saw it—not yet.

  Quickly, while I think he isn’t looking, I close it and place it under my pillow. When I look up, he is leaning against my doorway with my new baby in his hand. His eyes are cast down to my hand on my pillow. I clear my throat, and his eyes snap to mine. Did he see that I read it? I hope not.

  He really is distracting standing there without a shirt on. My mouth is suddenly dry, and my hands itch to glide along his skin. His abs are ridiculous for a guy so young, but with sports and drills, he works hard, and it shows. He kicks the door closed and walks to place Tink on my bed, she immediately crawls to me rubbing her body against my leg. I pet her and place her on my pillow, where she kneads away and curls into a ball.

  Josh hasn’t said anything since he walked back into my room. He moves across from me and is standing in front of my dresser, his hands gripping the edge and his feet are crossed at the ankle. He looks edible, and I don’t hide the fact that I am visually tracing over his frame. His face is serious and unreadable, not a smirk, not a grin, just—watching me.

  I turn my eyes away from him, and lean toward my window remembering all the memories we shared together.

  Like the time I saw him napping with his window open, and decided it would be hilarious to shoot my water gun straight through it and soak him. It was seriously funny. Or during the winter, when it was too cold outside, how we would write messages to each other on our dry erase boards. That is before we had our phones to text.

  “Where did you go just now?” he asks me softly, breaking me free from my trip down memory lane.

  I swallow and realized that, without thinking, I had trailed a heart with my index finger along the dust and dew on my window and wrote, ‘I love you.’ I wiped my hand across the words erasing them before he could see. “Just thinking,” I whisper.

  “About? You were smiling, must have been a nice thought.” His voice takes on a low tone that makes me want to look at him.

  I turn to see his eyes on the glass window, where my hand just was. “Yeah, it was,” I say looking at him. “A lot has happened between these two pieces of glass. I was just thinking about some of my favorite memories,” I say without thinking. I shouldn’t have said that, now he knows I think about him. Shit.

  His eyes lock with mine, his mouth curls up. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, what are some of your favorite memories—and not in general of us—but involving these windows?” I ask him.

  He runs his index finger along his bottom lip. “Do the ones where I watched you undress count?” he says watching my reaction closely.

  My mouth falls open. “No, you didn’t?” I ask. “Right? You didn’t, right?” I stutter.

  He giggles. “Hmmm sorry, but I’m guilty. I mean...if you leave the curtains open and you know my bedroom window is right there, I figured it was an invitation,” he says, pointing at the window with a cute smirk on his face.

  I feel my face heat, just the thought of Josh watching me should creep me out but it doesn’t. It kind of makes me feel warm.

  “Urm...well, now that we know you’re a pervert, please continue. Favorite memories?” I goad him.

  “Well, there are two. One with just you and the other with you and me,” he says. “First one was when you were like thirteen I guess, anyway, you had a hair brush in your hand and your hair was in a ponytail. You were dancing around in your room and singing into the brush dramatically. I just remember thinking you looked so happy and carefree. Some pieces of your hair had fallen out of your ponytail and into your face. I had this strange impulse to want to touch it and place it behind your ear. M’hm, I realize I sound like a stalker-peeping-Tom, huh?”

  I just look at him. At thirteen? He wanted to touch my hair, he watched me even then? I didn’t find it stalkerish. I thought it was sweet. I shake my head back and forth feeling my eyes get a little glassy.

  I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Okay. So, next one?”

  He continues, “The second memory was last year, actually. It was pouring down rain outside. I had my window open because I love the sound of the rain. It’s soothing. I watched from the window as Dean pulled up into your driveway and dropped you off. I remember thinking he was a douche because he didn’t even get out to try and cradle you from the rain. Nope, he just dropped you off, even pulled away before seeing that you were inside. It was a shitty thing to do. I mean...there could have been a creeper watching you.”

  “Like you?” I joke. I can’t stop the smile that has permanently graced my face.

  He laughs. “Yeah, like me. Well, I heard you curse, and I realized you were locked out of your house. Your mom wasn’t home, and Tatum was at my house. I went outside, and by the time I got there, you were already by your bedroom window trying to pull the screen off. You cursed again because you couldn’t get it to come off, and you must have hurt your finger because you sucked on it. I just remember you looked so fucking sexy standing in the rain like that—dripping wet and angry—and your finger in your mouth. The way your t-shirt was clinging to your body was well—distracting. I offered to help you, and you jumped out of your skin because you didn’t know I was out there. I popped the screen for you, and lo and behold that window of yours was unlocked. You thanked me and went to climb in but you—,”

  “Slipped…fell right into your arms,” I finish his memory. I remember it.

  He nods and runs his hand through his hair. My fingers twitched to do the same.

  I tell him, “I remember that night, too.” I feel my breathing become shallow.

  He moves forward to come sit next to me on my bed, his eyes mirroring my own. His voice is low and husky, “I just remember how much I wanted to taste the raindrops falling down your neck. I wanted to kiss you so damn bad that when I went to bed that night, I replayed it over and over in my head until I felt dizzy,” he confesses. I don’t miss the flick of his eyes to my mouth.

  Ah hell.

  “Josh,” I breathe.

  He brushes his knuckle along my cheek, and I shut my eyes loving the way it feels. He moves his hand to my mouth where he pads his thumb along my bottom lip, and cups my chin. I slowly open my eyes finding his smoldering with want for me. I can’t take it. I need to kiss him.

  Without a second thought, I move to where I am straddling his lap. I grab his face and his eyes study mine. I’m seeking permission and fighting with myself for doing this. He has a girlfriend. God, I know I’m making a mistake, but I can’t stop it. Everything in my body is buzzing and telling me to kiss him. It’s a need now, not just a want.

  “I wanted to kiss you, too,” I admit breathy and prepared to do just that.

  His eyes dilate right in front of me, and he swallows hard. One of his arms snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him, while his other reaches around the nape of my neck to pull my mouth to his. “Kiss me now,” he demands in a hushed whisper.

  I do.
God, I kiss him like my life depends on it. And in this moment, I believe it to be true. He ignites something in me that I don’t understand. A feeling I can’t control—it scares me to death yet makes me want more.

  Somewhere in that kiss, my conscious wakes up and I pull away, stopping this mistake. “Oh, God. Stop! Crap, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing that. I um, I—,” I falter.

  I climb off of him and stumble backwards touching my lips, my words trailing off into the rest of the unspoken thoughts.

  He looks confused, unsure. I feel the same.

  “It’s okay, Riley. I’m not complaining,” he tells me, watching me cautiously under hooded eyes.

  “You should, though. You have a girlfriend, and I’m just...your best friend,” I say feeling my throat tighten.

  “Friend,” he mouths with distaste and shakes his head.

  I place my hands over my face humiliated. He stands and removes my hands. “You’re wrong, Riley. I don’t have a girlfriend. I wish you could see that,” he says.

  I don’t reply. I just stare at him, unsure. “But...Preslee?”

  Suddenly he looks angry, and it throws me off guard. “I don’t get you, Riley. Why does this bother you so much? Preslee and me? Which there is no me and her, by the way,” he says. “I keep telling you she isn’t anything to me,” he adds.

  “It doesn’t bother me,” I respond quickly with a lie.

  “The hell it doesn’t. You have been fucking bothered by it since day one. Why is that?” He practically shouts at me.

  I stare open mouthed unable to speak.

  He cups my cheek softly and raises his eyebrows expectedly. “Answer the question, Riley. Why is that?” He asks again more demanding this time, but softer.

  I swallow and meet his eyes. “Because she is taking you from me.” I tell him honestly.

  His eyes are studying mine. “Taking me away how, Riley? I’m not yours.” His voice is low now. “Unless you want me to be,” he adds. “Is that it? Do you want me to be yours, Riley?”

  Shut up. Please, shut up!

  I stare at him, swallowing down the lump in my throat a thousand times. My body is shaking. “I’m scared.”