by Sally Henson
He purses his lips, looking down at his desk for a minute before he stands and crosses the room to the doorway. “What’s this about, Lane? You don’t need to worry about my business if that’s what’s going on.”
“Oh, no sir. I mean, I’d like to spend some more time with my family and friends before I leave. And truthfully, I do feel bad about standing around doing nothing here.”
He grins, gripping my shoulder. “You’re a good kid.” He squeezes past me to the store counter. “So, what day are you thinking?”
I make my way to the counter and lean my forearms on the surface. “How about today? At lunch.”
Mr. Nitsua turns to face me. His eyebrows arched high. “Wow, that soon?”
“I can stay all day if you like. That’s not a problem at all. I can stay until the day we discussed too. No offense, sir. I really appreciate being able to work here.”
He waves me off. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m surprised you were thinking today. You’re probably doing me a favor.” He smoothes down his salt and pepper goatee. “Come by Friday. I’ll have your last check ready for you after noon.”
I shake his hand. “Yes, sir. Thanks for everything.” I glance at the clock. Crap! I’m going to be late. I try to pull away but he holds firm and clamps my shoulder with his other hand.
“If you’re looking for a job next summer, make sure you check with me first.”
I nod furiously. “Uh, sure thing.” My eyes wonder back to the clock again. Why didn’t I set an alarm on my phone. An alarm would have told him I have somewhere important to be without me interrupting him and coming off as rude.
Mr. Nitsua finally releases my hand and starts, “You know, when I was your age—.”
I know this is going to be one of those long tales that will lead into another and another. If I don’t do something now, he’ll go on and on and Regan will get tired of waiting and leave and that could be it. Everything would be over. All my chances…gone.
Backing away from him, I cut off the fraternity experience he was engrossed in. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got somewhere I have to be.” The door is about fifteen steps from the counter, but it feels like fifteen-hundred. “Thanks,” I shout, tossing him a wave as I dart out of the building. The fresh airs nearly chokes me, amplifying where I’m headed and what’s at stake. These past couple days have been torture. If Regan felt the same way, I wouldn’t have had to convince her. Which means she’s about to feed me a rejection pie.
But I can still feel Regan’s soft lips on mine. And she didn’t say no or push me away in the moment. The way her skin warmed under my hands, the tint of pink covering her cheeks when I pulled away, it has to mean she felt it too.
I slide in my truck and crank the engine, plopping my head against the steering wheel for a few seconds. Regan’s words are either going to be the best tasting dessert I’ve had in my life or it’ll curdle like sour milk in my stomach. Spit pools in my mouth. I swallow and pull out of the parking lot. One simple word could ruin me.
28
Regan
At the end of practice, Tobi hounds me, “Are you going to ditch me again today?”
I sigh and drop my shoulders. “Yes.”
She gives me a nasty look.
“I'm sorry. Mom needs the car. But,” I look at her pleadingly. “Could I catch a ride to open gym and back home tonight?” I purposely fail to mention that I'm meeting Lane for lunch. A twinge of guilt flutters inside me, but it's not painful enough to tell her what's going on.
“Sure, I can give you a ride. What time do you want me to pick you up?”
I give her a half smile. “Not sure. I’ll call you later. Hey, what time is it?”
Tobi sifts through her bag for her phone. “Ten thirty. We went over today.” Her phone beeps. “Dad. What's he demanding now?” She taps her phone and reads the message from her dad.
I should wash this sweat off me. Why didn’t I bring a shirt to change into?
Tobi rolls her eyes. “I need to call him.”
Tobi and her Dad are always giving each other a hard time. They’re constantly gigging each other. He's funny, but I think Tobi's funnier, of course.
I take a few steps backward. “I'm going to the locker room.”
She grunts in acknowledgment.
I get some paper towels, wet them down and wipe off starting with my face. I look terrible. My skin is splotchy. I'm sweaty. My hair is a mess. This isn't working.
Smooth, even breaths, Regan, stay calm.
My shoulders hunch and I toss the paper towels in the trash. Tears drop one by one. It feels like all I do is cry these days.
Tobi calls out to me from the locker room entrance and says she needs to go by the feed store for her dad. “I'll see you at my house later. Come over whenever you want.”
I'm glad she didn't come in and see me freaking out.
“Okay,” I manage. “Thanks again for the ride.”
I wait a few moments, cleaning up my face again, and walk out across the gym and through the parking lot to the Jeep, all the while trying to convince myself it doesn't matter what I look like. And failing miserably.
29
Regan
Lake Nellie covers nearly sixty acres and provides the drinking water for our small town. It doesn't look that big when first pulling into the path, but it curves back and around hills. The entrance is along the main road going north out of town, the same road I take home, and only three miles from school.
At the entrance, I decide to wind on up the drive to a more private shaded area. It's beyond where Eagles Landing is parked. Lane's truck isn't here, and we never said exactly where we were going to meet. After I park, I rest my head against the headrest and I stay in the car for a minute. Dread of this looming conversation has my fingers glued to the steering wheel. I force myself to get out and walk toward the food truck.
Halfway there, Lane's white Chevy truck pulls up. The muscles in my shoulders draw up. He spots me on the road and waves with a big smile on his face as he drives by to park beside the Jeep. I reluctantly turn back toward the vehicles to meet him.
He shuts his door and trots to meet me. “What's on the menu today? I'm famished.” His smile is easy and eases the tension in my shoulders.
I take a deep breath. “I don't know. I haven't been to the truck yet.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “How was practice? You look like you're making it okay.” He looks me up and down.
Practice was terrible. Everything in my life is a mess. I want to yell and blame everything on him, but I keep the truth of my feeling to myself. “The usual.” I shrug as though I'm not having an internal conversation. It's hard to be mad at him. “I'm exhausted by the end of the day, though. And I think I'll probably be a little sore tomorrow. Have you been busy at work today?”
“First thing this morning it was one customer after another, but it's been super slow since ten.” His eyes float back and forth from me to our surroundings, constantly gauging me. He continues with nervous chit chat until we stand in front of the menu.
The roach coach is wrapped in this amazing vinyl that shows a lit landing strip with a Columbia blue-and-white eagle, the school mascot and colors, coming in for a sunrise landing. Off to the side of the order window, is a large folding chalkboard. It's framed like a picture with old rough barn siding. They write the menu for the day on there—each item in a different script. It looks awesome.
Sliders: 2 BBQ Pulled Pork sliders topped w/coleslaw on mini sweet bread buns
Big Boy: BBQ Pulled Pork sandwich topped w/coleslaw on toasted onion bun
The Boss: BBQ Pulled Pork sandwich, three strips of Bacon, topped w/coleslaw on Texas Toast
Boss Hog: 3 meat Pork Sandwich—Ham, BBQ Pulled Pork, Bacon—on toasted Beer Bread, Coleslaw on the side.
Dessert Features Locally Grown Blackberries: Blackberry Cobbler, Blackberry Ice Cream
Drinks: Bottled Water, Canned Cola, Diet Cola, Lemon-Lime
&nb
sp; “It looks good.” Lane's stomach growls as he speaks.
We laugh, and I tease him. “You must be famished.”
His hunger pangs chip some of the tension away.
JB, the owner, waits for us at the order window with his crazy hair pointing in every direction. “What’ll it be today?”
Lane whispers in my ear, “Did Albert Einstein come back to life as a roach coach cook?”
I turn away from the window, stifling my giggle and widen my eyes with a look that says “stop before you embarrass me.”
“What?” He shrugs it off but he can’t hide his smile for long.
I shake my head and look back at the menu.
Lane leans close and mumbles, “Don’t look now, but his bushy white eyebrows are watching us.”
“Stop,” I scold him, trying not to laugh.
JB’s brother, Petey, steps out of the back of the truck and barrels our way, wiping his hands on his apron. “What’s the hold up?”
Everyone says he's the most lovable fuzz ball.
He's a big dude that looks like he’s going to tear my head off. “I’m ready,” I blurt out.
“Me too.” Lane grins and Petey motors back to the truck.
I'm not that hungry. My appetite has suffered since Sunday evening. I can eat breakfast, but usually, food doesn’t sound good by lunch, trying to figure out what to do about Lane's epiphany. I do feel better since deciding to talk with him today, though. I want to patch things up, somehow.
We step to the window and interrupt JB’s baritone chuckle.
“The Sliders, please, and a water.” I hand him my money to pay.
“Let me buy.” Lane stops the transaction and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. That seems more like what a boyfriend might do.
My back stiffens. “No.”
JB looks back and forth between Lane and me. I lift my eyes to Lane’s. That came out a little harsher than intended.
His shoulders drop as he glances down at his wallet. He takes a step back and closes his wallet.
I drop my eyes to the ground below the window and relax my posture. I sigh quietly. I add, “Thanks anyway,” to lessen the blow.
After JB gives my change to me, I shuffle over to a picnic table off to the side, and sit down.
Lane orders. “Give me the Boss Hog, blackberry cobbler with the ice cream and a water.”
“Dude! A man after my own heart. Petey, fire all the burners for this one!” He continues to heckle Lane. It's all part of his image. The customers like it, too.
Lane pays for his order, and then sits by me at the table. My mind races as we attempt to make small talk. The pressure in my chest grows with every word. Finally, our food is ready.
“Do you mind eating over by where we parked?” I step in that direction, knowing he'll agree.
“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “Sure.”
We walk side by side as we’ve done so many times before. For a moment, as we walk like this among the trees and open space, everything feels as it should.
As soon as we take our seats at the picnic table the atmosphere surrounding us changes again. This up and down roller coaster ride of emotions is wearing on me. The muscles in my shoulders constrict, a burning sensation tears through my stomach, and I find myself short of breath.
Small talk about the food doesn't last long. Lane is first to stop the blathering and cut to the chase.
He looks down at the food container and swallows. “So, have you thought about things? About Sunday?”
30
Regan
My gaze drops to my lap where my fingers wring nervously. A hint of pine carries through the breeze, and as I breathe it in, it relaxes me a little.
“Be honest,” he interjects softly. “With me and yourself.” He leans over the table and lowers his head level with mine, waiting for me to answer.
I look directly at him. This is no time for cowardice. “Yes. I've spent a lot of time thinking about your conditions.” Good start, Regan, keep going. “It's been torture, Lane.” My lips press together, forming a thin line. “It would be so much easier if you hadn't said anything.”
His head and shoulders drop, and it makes my stomach tighten. He asked for it.
“You said you wanted me to be honest.”
He pulls away from the table and nods, avoiding my eyes. “Yeah.”
“This week’s been awful. Tobi's on my case, wondering what's going on and I had to tell Mom we had a fight to keep her off my back.”
Lane's face grimaces at my words. They came out too harsh.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to get the words right. “When I think about us, I guess we've become … comfortable with each other. You're right.”
His eyes twinkle at those two words.
I force myself to look at him, even though my body wants to slink under the table and hide. It's so hard to say this out loud. “I do allow only you to play with my hair and stuff.” I rush through my words, trying to get it over with. “We steal looks, and I do linger over your physique sometimes.” There, I said it.
His eyes widen, and his chest puffs out as he sits a little taller.
Heat flushes my cheeks, and I have to look away for a minute. I glance back and his features soften. At least he's not interrupting me.
I fidget with my fingernails and continue, “I think we know each other so well, you know, we're just—comfortable being together. We trust each other and that's why it seems natural. Like you said.”
His eyes are dancing, trying to speak to me.
“Let me finish before you say anything, okay?”
He nods, agreeing to wait.
“Condition two.”
Lane smiles and rests his clasped hands on top the table.
“You dated that one girl for a little while when I was in eighth grade, but I never saw you two together, and you didn't talk about her much. As far as I know, you haven't dated anyone else. And I've been too self-absorbed to consider why you haven’t dated anyone else.”
He keeps a crooked grin on his lips. “I—”
I raise my hand to stop him from interrupting.
Lane isn’t having it. He leans forward, his expression serious. “Let me say this one thing, please.”
I tilt my head and give in. “Okay.”
“We always had fun and it was easy to be together. I think I denied it because we were such close friends. And I just want you to know I haven't been interested in anyone other than you for a long time.”
His words melt my insides like butter. I smile and sigh to myself. “You know, if you ever went out with Tobi, that would be so wrong in every way.” He chuckles as I continue. “If you dated Stacey, I'd be so furious and might have to kill you.”
He shakes his head with a tremble of silent laughter.
“If you find someone while you’re away at school….” My throat tightens. “Well, I don't think I'd like it … she would never be good enough for you.” I look out through the trees. “I don't want to give up my time with you to some bimbo.”
When I look back to him, his eyes are so intense it almost takes my breath away. He's going to have women, real women, vying for his attention when he starts college, not some self-absorbed, childish teenage girl. The thought of it makes me want to crawl into a hole, shrivel up and die. I shake those thoughts from my head and move on.
A warmth washes over my body as I bring up the last talking point. “Condition three …” It's embarrassing enough to think about the sensations, the touch of his lips, but talking to Lane about them is way out of my comfort zone. How am I going to talk to him about this? Truth. Honesty. Comfort. “That was my first kiss. You know that?”
He looks down at the table, up to my mouth, and then to my eyes again with a shy grin.
Dang—what is he doing to me with the eyes-mouth thing? “Have you kissed anyone before? Was that your first kiss?”
He tilts his head left then right, and shrugs.
I narrow my brows. “What does that mean?”
“Well, I kissed you before, when we were kids.”
I roll my eyes.
“And I did kiss 'that one girl,' Johanna, before she moved.”
A sneer lifts my upper lip when I hear her name.
He leans in and speaks in that soft low voice I'm starting to adore. “But I've never kissed anyone like I kissed you. So, do you call that a first kiss?” He tilts his head and raises brows as he waits for my answer.
I blink away the trance he’s trying to put me under. “We'll go with no. So, the result—the response is …” Pausing—breathing—pushing my fingertips against my forehead. Don't be a coward, look at him. “You want me to be honest?”
His eyes round a little, like an adorable baby deer.
The muscles in his throat ripple as he swallows. He nods once.
“Without going into detail, it made me feel—” I close my eyes, replaying his mouth on mine. Just the memory of the kiss knocks the breath out of me. I open my eyes to his gaze. “It was amazing and scary at the same time.”
Lane's posture softens, along with his eyes. “Can I speak now?”
I hold my index finger up. “I'm not quite finished. Condition one and two—I can live with those. It wouldn’t change us too much, I think. Of what our friendship already is. Even though I’ve denied it, I can handle that knowing we do these things. Condition three is what I've been trying to stay away from. Getting physical … it leads to a place I'm not ready to go yet. Kissing, then fooling around, and—”
Lane interrupts me with his laughter, but quickly clamps his mouth shut when I glare at him.
I purse my lips, wondering if he’s taking me seriously. “Before you know it, bam.”
He howls, tossing his head back.
“Stop laughing!” I glance around the trees and picnic area to make sure we’re still out here by ourselves. If someone heard us having this conversation, oh, my gosh, I can’t even think about that. “Susanna told me everything, Lane. How she messed up, how it's a snowball effect.”
