“What?” he asks.
“I was just thinking,” I say, but I pause.
I can’t tell him I’ve been dreaming of this moment since sophomore year, or that I believe he could be my future husband. He’ll think I’m a nut job. Plus, I’m starting to feel like our future marriage has hit a rough patch, and I’m turning into Mr. Bender. Only without the whole family in Cambodia thing.
No, with all the after-hours sneaking, it’s more like I’m turning into something worse, like Shelly’s dad. I cringe at that thought.
“It’s our first date,” I finish.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Gotta start somewhere.”
I’m not sure what that means, but I steal one more glance at his soft lips. Just a few more hours, and I’ll get my chance to kiss them. And then hopefully all this confusion over Jason will disappear.
We walk up to the theater, and I nearly turn and run back to the car. Shelly and Jason are walking up, or more accurately, Shelly’s pulling Jason along behind her. I refuse to look at him.
“What? Hey, guys!” she laughs. “I thought you didn’t want to see a movie.”
“Hey, Shelly,” Trent says, smiling.
I can’t say a word.
“This is great!” Shelly’s practically bouncing, holding Jason’s hand. He’s standing beside her with his other hand in his pocket. I glance up and meet his eyes for a split second. Mistake! I look away again fast. My cheeks feel pink.
“Which one should we see?” she continues.
“I don’t care,” I say. I want to get out of here. Now.
“That one’s supposed to be really funny,” Trent says, pointing.
He looks at me and smiles, waiting for my response, and mentally I shake myself. I have got to get control. Jason and I are just friends. But everything’s different since last night. Since that kiss, and him asking me not to go out with Trent. Ugh! It’s all too much.
“Well, my vote’s always for a comedy,” Shelly pipes up, oblivious to the whole situation. Trent’s pretty oblivious as well.
“Sounds good,” he says. “Okay with you?”
“Sure!” My voice sounds weird, so I clear my throat and smile.
I can feel Jason’s eyes on me, and now I’m starting to get angry. He’s doing it again. Barging in and wrecking everything. Well, I’m not going to let him ruin my date. I take Trent’s hand and lace our fingers as we walk into the theater. Trent doesn’t really grasp my hand back, which is disappointing, but he doesn’t pull away either. I decide to take that as a good sign.
We find our seats, and Shelly and I sit beside each other in the middle with the boys on the outside. I reach over and clasp Trent’s hand again and refuse to notice Shelly’s hand on Jason’s thigh. The whole film I try to concentrate on what’s happening in front of us rather than what’s transpiring beside me. Shelly keeps whispering in Jason’s ear and giggling. At one point, I see her twisting her fingers in his hair. Assertive my butt, she’s just plain pushy. Dark chocolate with milk chocolate highlights. Jason doesn’t seem to be resisting too much. He’s got a lot of nerve acting like I’m doing something so unbelievable when he’s sitting over there allowing my best friend to practically undress him.
Trent’s very sweet. He doesn’t put his arm around me, but he does poke me in the ribs a few times at what I guess are the funny parts of this movie I’m not even watching. I smile, pretending like I’m having the greatest time. I study his mouth as he laughs. Maybe once I kiss him, my feelings will get back on track. He has to be the best kisser. He and Stephanie always seemed so into each other, and Stephanie isn’t exactly a nun. I think about Stephanie. What would the head cheerleader do in a situation like this? Somehow I can’t imagine her ending up in one. How do some people always seem to know the right thing to do all the time? I feel like I used to at least have an idea.
Finally the show’s over, and we all get up to leave.
“That was nice,” I say, smiling at Trent.
“Yeah,” he smiles back.
“What are you guys doing now?” Jason asks, as if it’s any of his business.
“Uh…” Trent looks at me.
“Maybe we can just go back to my house?” I say. Maybe if I get him on the couch watching TV in the dark, we can get things moving.
“Sure,” Trent says.
“Sounds great!” Shelly gushes. “We’ll see you guys Monday.”
“Or we could come by?” Jason suggests.
I cut my eyes at him, but Shelly’s on it.
“Oh, Jason, I’m so hungry,” she says. “Maybe we could stop off for something instead?”
“Yeah,” I agree. “And I can’t really have a lot of people over tonight. You know. Church tomorrow.”
Before another word can be spoken, Shelly’s pulling Jason away, and I take Trent’s hand to pull him to the car.
I try to chat about the movie as we drive the short distance to my house, but I didn’t really watch it. I think about other things he might be interested in. The radio’s still playing dumb ole parent music, so it can’t be that. I’m racking my brains… what did Jason say they were doing? Ultimate Frisbee? But when we turn onto my street, I freeze. Ricky’s car is at my house again, and this time it looks like two people are inside it. Is my mom in Ricky’s car? I don’t know what to do.
“Uh… Wait!” I’m scrambling.
“Huh?” Trent seems alarmed.
“Let’s go to the creek instead!” It’s the first thing that pops into my head. “I just… I’d rather sit outside and talk. I know a great spot.”
“Oh,” he seems to hesitate. “Sure.”
I direct him to the place Jason and I were last night. He parks the car at the road and we walk through the grass to the tree on the bank. The water’s rippling the same as before, and I remember it was a soothing sound last night. But I don’t feel relaxed tonight. I feel anxious and flustered. Trent sits with his back against the tree, and I sit beside him.
“This is nice,” he says. We look at the dark water. I think about my dream and wonder why Ricky’s car is at my house late on a Saturday night. I wonder if that’s my mom in it, and if so, what are they doing? And right there in front of the whole neighborhood!
“So I was thinking about your dad being a pastor,” Trent says, interrupting my thoughts. I look at him confused. Is that why he’s being so cautious?
“Yeah?” I say.
“What’s that like?”
I think about my answer. “I don’t know. He’s gone a lot.”
“Is he real strict and stuff?”
I shrug. “Not any more than anybody else’s parents, I guess. I mean, most anybody else’s.” Shelly’s mom is way less strict. Especially since the divorce.
Trent nods. “My mom’s always searching my room.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know,” he sort of laughs, but it isn’t a happy sound. “I guess she thinks I’m hiding something.”
“Well? I mean… are you?”
“Whose side are you on?” He pokes me in the ribs and pretends to fight.
I push his arm. “Yours,” I say, with a smile. This is better.
We’re quiet again, listening to the water. For a moment, I forget about Mom and Ricky, and instead I feel concerned for Trent. Why did he tell me that?
“So how do you know?” I ask. “Did you catch her?”
He shakes his head. “Sometimes I’ll come home, and I can tell she’s been in there. Looking under my bed and stuff.”
“What for? Drugs? Dirty magazines?”
“Maybe.”
“Has she ever found any?”
Then he laughs and says like it’s an announcement, “There are no forbidden objects hidden in my room.”
I smile. Now things are really better between us. But he gets serious again.
“I guess your dad doesn’t do that.”
I shake my head. “I mean… I don’t think so.”
A few seconds pass. The currents ri
pple by on the creek.
“I like my dad,” I say. “But he’s very… preoccupied all the time. With the church and all. The flock.”
He nods. “I never see my dad now. Since the divorce.”
I scoot closer to him and take his hand. “I’m sorry.”
He looks at me and smiles. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but… I don’t know.”
We’re quiet again, and he looks at our hands. He’s really holding mine now, and with his finger he traces a line across the back of it. It feels nice, like we’re making progress.
“So you must’ve really liked Stephanie,” I say.
“What? Why do you say that?”
“I’m sorry!” I squeeze his hand. I’m an idiot! Why would I bring up Stephanie? “You just… you seemed so sad for so long after you guys broke up. I hated seeing you sad.”
He’s quiet, thoughtful. “We dated a while, I guess.”
We’re quiet again, and I bite my lip trying to think of a different topic. What moron brings up an ex-girlfriend on a first date?
“Remember that day at the gym?” I ask. “Last summer after cheerleading tryouts?”
“When you hit your head?”
Not that part… “You helped me after I got hurt?”
“Sure. I was really worried about you. We all were.”
“I thought it was really cool how you made sure I was okay and carried me inside. Kind of like a hero or something.”
“I think anybody would’ve done the same thing.”
“Isn’t that what all the heroes say?” I lean forward to catch his eye.
His face relaxes, and he squeezes my hand. “I’m not a hero, Harley.”
“Well, you were very sweet. I was upset about tryouts and not making the squad, and you made me feel a lot better. I’ve always wanted to thank you for that. Somehow.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad I made you feel better.” He pauses for a beat, thinking. “And I know what it’s like to… well, to not feel good enough.”
My eyebrows pull together. “You do?”
He exhales. “Yeah. I mean, I suck at football, and my dad was always making me play. It was humiliating…”
I bite my lip. I like that we’re getting to know each other better, but if we keep going down this road, I’ll never get that kiss. “Well, you helped me. And I’ve thought you were great. Ever since.”
He smiles back. “You’re pretty great, too.”
Bingo. I scoot even closer and look up at him. Then I slip the tip of my tongue out to moisten my bottom lip. He seems puzzled, so I glance at his mouth. Then I blink my eyes back to his. “I was thinking we might… you know.”
His mouth kind of twitches like he’s unsure, then he leans forward and sighs before slipping his hand behind my head and pulling our mouths together. I’m so ready for electricity, but it doesn’t come. Our lips don’t part, and he just kind of holds me there as if he’s counting in his head or something. My eyebrows pull together, and I try to open my mouth. But at that movement, he releases me and leans back. I look down quickly, completely confused. A hiccup-breath moves through my chest, and for some absurd reason, I want to cry.
“That was nice,” he says.
I’m lucky my head’s down so he can’t see how my eyes just flew wide. There’s no way he enjoyed that.
“You ready to head back?”
I nod.
We stand and walk back to the car, and I’m hoping with all my might Ricky’s gone when we get to my house, because I’m ready to run inside and cry myself to sleep.
As we drive back, my mind scrambles for any reason I can find that makes sense. Somehow, someway, something must’ve gone wrong for our special moment to have gone so wrong. Something must’ve messed us up. I’m sure of it. He had to have been distracted. Or maybe I caught him off-guard. Or possibly he was nervous? Maybe he thought I wasn’t the kind of girl who kisses on a first date. Maybe all that parent talk interfered with his game.
We get to my house and thankfully Ricky’s car isn’t there.
“Let’s do this again sometime,” Trent says as I start to get out.
I glance back at him. Does he want another chance?
“Okay,” I smile and lean toward him. He leans forward and kisses my cheek. My cheek?
“Right,” I say, getting back out of the car.
His phone buzzes, and he picks it up quickly. I watch as he glances at the text and for a half-second, he smiles and looks happier than he has all night.
It immediately disappears when he turns back to me. “’Night, Harley,” he says.
I blink and then get out frowning. What was that? Clearly there’s someone out there he wanted to hear from tonight. Someone whose lips he might’ve been more excited about kissing.
I walk slowly to the house thinking how this would just make Jason’s day. This whole night would. That was the worst first date in the history of all first dates. I open the front door as tears are stinging in my eyes, but I stop when I hear voices in the living room. It sounds like my parents, so I wait and listen.
“It just doesn’t look good, Jackie,” My dad says.
“I know,” Mom says quieter. “But I said he could talk to me whenever he needed to, and I guess he needed to.”
“At ten o’clock at night?”
“He’s dealing with a lot right now.”
Finally! My dad’s in on it. He’ll put a stop to all this Ricky nonsense. I open the door and walk inside. My parents stop talking and look at me.
“How was your date, honey?” Mom smiles.
I decide to skip the gory details and just go to bed. Let them finish getting rid of Ricky.
“It was okay,” I say.
“He looked like a very nice young man.”
I shrug and keep walking. Too nice if you ask me. “’Night, guys.”
I go to my room and close the door, hoping that by tomorrow Ricky will be gone and I can figure out what went so wrong with my Mr. Right.
Eleven
The future is never how you think it’ll be. After church, Trent is waiting for me, and he even holds my hand as we walk to the back doors.
“I was thinking maybe Friday we could do something again,” he says. I look up at his lavender-blue eyes completely confused.
“Really?” I can’t believe it, but he does seem happier.
Boys can be so confusing sometimes. Maybe I misunderstood the whole evening. Maybe he was upset about something that had nothing to do with me at all. Maybe that text was from his mom offering to get him his own car. Or saying she’d never search his room again.
“Yeah,” he says. “Mom has her appointment, but—”
“That’s okay.” I do a little laugh. “I’ll be happy to drive this time. Mom’s SUV is back.”
“Oh, you don’t have to drive, I just—”
“I don’t mind. Really. Let me check with my parents, but I’m sure it’ll be okay. I can pick you up at your house.”
“Um, okay. Like after seven?”
“Sure,” I say, smiling.
He holds the door open and says goodbye before trotting off toward his car. I start in the opposite direction toward my mom, but I notice there’s a new addition to the group of ladies typically chatting on the lawn after church. Trent’s mom has joined them, and she’s standing right beside Mrs. Perkins.
“If it were me, I might feel it’s a bit too… familiar,” Mrs. Perkins is saying. Then she clears her throat and emphasizes her words. “Especially since you’re giving him hands-on instruction?”
Mom’s eyes narrow, and she seems angry. “Ricky graduates in four weeks. We’ve reached the point where he doesn’t need direct instruction from me anymore.”
I frown. Mrs. Perkins has never seemed interested in Mom’s students before. I glance at Ms. Jackson and remember her attempts at starting gossip. I also remember how annoyed she was by Mom and Ricky at the game. Now she appears too cozy with Mom’s nemesis.
“He seems very taken with you,” Ms. Jackson’s smaller voice says. “All he talks about at my appointments is how good you are. As a teacher.”
I feel my heart beating faster as Mrs. Perkins raises her eyebrows. But Mom simply sighs and shakes her head.
“He was probably just a little nervous. He was having trouble mastering healing touches, and he did say he wasn’t comfortable with end-feel…” She exhales and mutters. “This can’t be interesting to you.”
“Oh, you’re wrong,” Mrs. Perkins smiles her evil-witch smile. “I find this very interesting.”
Mom glances at her, not smiling back. “I’m sure you do.”
“And how does Dr. Andrews feel about you working with Ricky on, what is it? End-touching?” Mrs. Perkins’ eyes are sparkling. She actually looks giddy. I feel nauseated.
“That’s not the correct phraseology,” Mom says, her annoyance apparent. “It’s end-feel, and it refers to the joints and range of motion.”
“I’m so sorry.” Mrs. Perkins tries to act like it was simply an innocent mistake. As if anybody’s buying that.
“Stuart is very supportive of my mentoring a student every year,” Mom continues. “He approves of whoever the college sends me.”
“That sounds convenient,” Mrs. Perkins says. I wonder where Mrs. Bender is. She normally jumps in and defends Mom in situations like these.
“Well, I won’t keep you from your lunch,” Mrs. Perkins says. “Come along, Sandra.”
Mrs. Perkins takes Ms. Jackson’s arm, and the two ladies walk toward the car where Trent is waiting, looking at his phone. I turn to my mom and she’s biting the inside of her cheek. Her eyes are somewhere else, thinking, and she touches my arm for a moment but doesn’t look at me.
“Harley, I’m going to find your dad,” she says.
“Sure, but I—” Too late. She’s gliding back toward the front of the church clearly irritated and not listening to me.
I decide not to wait and start walking to my house alone. Now I’m really worried. The way Mom and Ricky acted at the game might’ve been overlooked by parishioners who’ve grown accustomed to Mom’s annual student trainees, people who once upon a time saw no evil. But after the fallout from Shelly’s dad and how surprised everyone was by his affair, it seems anything’s possible now. Ms. Jackson’s suspicions might’ve seemed outrageous before last summer, but now it won’t take much for her insinuations to lodge in everyone’s minds. And then what?
The Truth About Faking Page 13
