by Bri Stone
“Um, just some guy.”
“What guy?” Dad and I say at the same time.
She blushes, and I notice her kick Price to change the subject. Dad and I let it go. When we all finish, we pile into the kitchen to help clean up.
“You should rest, sweetheart. You must be tired.” Momma tries to get me out of washing the dishes but none of my sisters are having it.
“Um, he doesn’t get special treatment,” Pepper says.
Out of all of them, I think I get along with her the least, probably because we are most alike. But when I have some moral struggle to get through and I don’t want to tell our parents, I ask her. She is the oldest, after all, and the most reasonable.
“I’m alright Momma. I’ll have more pie after to get my strength back so just save me a piece. Or two.”
She laughs her familiar bell chime and takes off.
My sisters and I talk for a while, not something we get to do very often since we’re all out of the house. I realize I miss them and should probably call more.
“So, hey; I have a question,” I say.
“Yeah,” they say almost in unison.
I’m onto the big pots and pans that clank in the bottom of the deep sink.
“I met this girl, and she is the definition of hard to get. I asked her to the bonfire, and she said she wasn’t going to come. Then she showed up. We got to talking, had one dance, and we kissed, then she took off.”
“Maybe you’re a bad kisser.” Price chides.
She’s the one who teases me. I frown at her, and Phoebe smacks her with a dish rag to get her to apologize.
“Some girls are like that. Especially in college. I honestly think I did that to a bunch of guys, and they did too.” Phoebe shrugs.
“I guess… but she didn’t seem like that. I don’t know. Maybe I’ve just been hit in the head too many times.” I keep washing and passing them along.
“Aw, don’t worry. You’re a great guy. She’ll figure it out eventually.” Penny pats my arm and smiles.
I smile back down at her. She’s so tiny. Penny has the same sweet brown eyes as all of us, but she keeps her hair died two tones of brown and never dresses up in more than jeans and a tee shirt, or jeans and a nicer tee shirt.
“Yeah, besides, you’re a senior, you don’t want to start anything too serious.” Price says, and Phoebe agrees.
“Thanks…” I sigh.
“But how is school? I’m so excited for graduation.” Penny giggles.
“You’re excited about my graduation? And it’s going well.”
“The combine draft too?” Phoebe asks. She is also the one who keeps up with the football.
“Yep. Coach is handling all that.”
“Good. I’m proud of you, we all are.” Pepper says, and my sisters all come and hug me individually. It doesn’t happen often, but we do have a good relationship, and we love each other.
I keep my promise to eat more pie when we finish, and I spend the rest of the night giving the little ones helicopter rides on my back before everyone piles out.
“I’ll be back in the afternoon to work the wheat, don’t try and do it yourself,” I tell my dad, but it’s no use telling him what to do.
“I’ll be fine son. You focus on your schooling.” His accent is deeper than anyone else’s because he grew up in the deep rural South.
“Yeah, right.” I hug him and mom. She still gives me three kisses—both cheeks and my forehead before I’m free to go.
I drive back and pass that gas station. Something comes over me and I make a fast U-turn to go inside, hoping Melinda is there. I pull up on the edge of the front entrance and see her behind the counter. Her tight gray shirt is visible from here, the way it hugs her body as she leans over, reading something. I turn off my truck and clamber inside, walking through my flip-flopping stomach and the chill of sweat on the back of my neck. I never get nervous, but dammit I have to get to the bottom of this.
She looks up at the sound of the chime; her hair is swept to one side and her eyes go wide as they meet mine. I don’t stop in front of the counter, but I instead walk around the side, so I stand right in front of her and block her exit.
“Hey,” I gruff. She looks up through her lashes and blinks as she swallows.
“Hi. How did you know I would be here?”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh.”
She goes silent.
“I was worried about you. I don’t know why you left yesterday.” I lick my lips nervously. “If you didn’t want me to kiss you, I’m sorry.” Mostly I was worried I did something that wasn’t warranted.
“That’s not—” She looks away. “I kissed you back,” She mutters.
“So,” I sigh, “why did you leave?”
She shakes her head once and turns back to the table. I watch her close her book and turn off a timer on her phone.
“Let me put my number in your phone.” I say. Her forehead creases with the twitch of her brows, her gaze frozen before she relents and hands over the palm flip phone. I put my number in, and text myself.
“Now you can’t avoid me.”
“I’m not. I just… you don’t want to get involved with me, trust me.” Her voice is quiet.
“I doubt that. I like you, and I want to get to know you. And you like me.” I nudge her shoulder, “Hey. Look at me, Melinda.”
After a second, she does. I close the space so we’re breathing the same air and her sweet berries and coconut scent surrounds me and nearly makes me lose my train of thought. “There is nothing so bad that could change my mind,” I say with conviction.
“Pete, you’re wrong.”
PETE
* * *
Once I leave class, I have the rest of the day to myself until evening practice. There isn’t enough time to head to the farm, so I go back to the house, finding the guys in the living room on the game system.
I greet them and dodge their questions about Melinda until I am in the safety of my room, then I think on what to do. I still don’t know what she meant the other day when she said I was wrong in thinking nothing could deter me from her. Well, I’m not going to take it; I have to figure out a way to get through to her.
I get a protein shake out of my mini fridge before I lounge on my couch and scroll up to Melinda’s number. I think for less than a second before I text her.
Pete: Hey, it’s Pete.
Melinda: Pete who?
I chuckle to myself, not hurt at all.
Pete: Peter James Buchanan.
Melinda: You have the wrong number.
I know that’s bullshit because I used her phone to text myself. It’s her constant persistence to keep me away that draws me closer.
So, I quit the texting and call her instead. Four rings, five, six… I don’t think she’ll answer until her honey voice floods my ears.
“Hello, weirdo.”
“Hey, Bumblebee; are you done pretending you don’t know who I am?” I lay my arm behind my head and sink into the couch, smiling to myself.
“I wasn’t.”
“You’re a liar.”
“Nice.”
I hear some shuffling on her end, and I figure she is working or something. “What are you doing?” I ask in curiosity.
“I’m in the library. I should get back to studying.”
“No, you can’t get rid of me that easy. What are you doing tonight?”
“More studying.” She sighs like she is tired of me, but I know she isn’t. I sense it in her voice like I know what the next play is or when the corn is ripe for picking.
“Well, I have practice later, so how about after you do your ‘more studying’ you can have dinner with me. It is taco Tuesday after all.” I can’t help but chuckle once and faintly hear her stifle a laugh.
“I don’t know.”
“You know, I don’t know a lot of things too, but it doesn’t stop me from doing any of them.”
“Pete, you’re… very persistent.”
“Because I’m not messing around here, not with you. Not with this.”
“There isn’t a ‘this.’ We barely know each other.”
“That doesn’t mean… Look, we can forget about the bonfire if you want. I don’t want to because that was one heck of a kiss.”
“I don’t want to either. I’ll go, but don’t get your hopes up.”
I laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you do that on purpose?”
“What?” I ask.
“The accent.”
“No, I don’t do it on purpose. I grew up here, are you done insulting me? I thought you were studying.”
“I wasn’t… whatever. You can pick me up from the library after you finish practice.”
“Okay, bye Melinda.” I smile, and I swear I feel her smile too before she hangs up.
Jim and Daniel holler out the windows of the truck on the way home. They’ve got a bunch of dumb shit to say about my date with Melinda if I can even call it that. She is hung up on something, granted we just met and I have no right to know—but I do deserve a chance.
“Have fun.” Daniel sings as I kick them both out of my truck in our driveway.
I showered and changed in the locker room so that I could head straight to the library. The campus is quiet and practically empty for a Tuesday evening. I get to the main entrance at quarter to eight and call Melinda. I wonder if she will even pick up, that she might have changed her mind.
“You could have texted.”
I snicker. “I’m by the archive entrance.”
“Okay.” She hangs up quickly.
I beat my thumbs on the steering wheel, with a flutter in my belly I haven’t felt since my first game taking over me. Melinda makes me nervous, anxious even because I don’t know what she’ll do or say.
I spot her coming out and hop out of the truck to open her door, stopping on the passenger side and watching her glide down the steps, like she doesn’t even know how beautiful she is. Her denim jeans and plain blue tee shirt seem ordinary, but on her, they may as well be royal dressing. She has her hair up in a loose bun and her tan bag slung over one shoulder.
“Hey.” I smile at her, the same charming smile that I know makes women swoon, but she barely takes notice.
“Hi.” Her smile is slight, as she steps up to me.
I take her bag from her and open her door, she makes a face but climbs inside.
“The belt is a little tricky,” I tell her, as I set her bag down under the console.
“I got it.”
I nod and jog around to the driver’s side, start the engine back up and smile over at her.
“You look tired,” I comment. Her brown eyes are soft and drawn, nearly drooping closed.
“I have a biology exam on Thursday.” She explains.
“Ah, makes sense.”
She looks over at me, glances at the road and then back to me. “Are we going to go, or just sit here?”
I laugh and put the truck in drive. “Yeah. Moe’s okay with you?”
She shrugs once in reply. I grin and set off in that direction. Soft music plays in the background on the radio station and each mile makes her presence grow with me. I know I’ll never be able to get her scent out of my head, swarming around in my truck.
We get to the restaurant and I rush to get out and open her door, by the time I get there she is already halfway out.
“Will you do that every time?”
I hold the door open as she climbs out, it’s lifted a few inches. I shut the door behind her and look down at her, as she comes up to my shoulders. I’m old fashioned, but I’m also all about women taking care of themselves—still, I’ll always be a gentleman.
“Yes.” We walk up to the entrance. “Get used to not touching any door handles if you’re around me.” I open the door for her to walk through, she glances at me as she does, and I see a hint of a smile.
I’m making progress.
We get seated in a small booth off to the back. On the way, I see a few people from campus and say hey back, mostly girls, and Melinda tries to walk faster.
“Does everyone know you everywhere you go?” Melinda asks with that tone of hers, and I can’t tell if she is sarcastic or just annoyed.
“Uh, mostly.” I run my fingers through my hair, still a little damp from the shower. But the humidity is so intense, it dried fast on the way.
She twists her lips as she looks down at the menu, not saying anything else. I already know what I want, so I watch her. How the sun is coming down in the window behind her, setting her in bright light. The softness of her hands around the menu, and the smooth lines of her face and full lips. Melinda looks soft and pliable, but something tells me she might be stronger than even me.
“So, this is your senior year, right?” I break the silence.
“Yeah.” She sets her hands in her lap. By now, the waitress has already brought us our drinks and taken our orders.
“So,” I start.
She sips her lemonade, leans back in her chair as she gazes back at me.
“What kind of doctor do you want to be?” I take a swig of my beer.
I don’t usually drink during the week, or much at all; but hell, I find myself needing to calm my nerves.
“An orthopedic surgeon.”
“So, you’ve already applied and everything?”
“Yeah, I find out about interviews soon.”
I nod in response.
“Is this your senior year, too?”
“Technically. I could have walked in graduation last year, but I needed one more year of clean stats before the NFL Combine, so I took on a few hours of electives.” I explain.
Her finely shaped brows furrow, “I don’t get it.”
I chuckle once.
“You stayed another year to get into the NFL?”
“Yeah, but when I got signed my freshman year, five seasons were written in my contract. They do that for promising folks who are set for the NFL.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“It gets a little complicated sometimes. But that’s why I majored in something useful just in case.”
“Well, most people don’t do that,” She murmurs.
I smile to myself. We get halfway through our food before the place crowds up, and a few people take it upon themselves to interrupt our meal to say something to me.
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” She pushes her plate away, with only half a taco left.
I can’t help the feeling she is bored with me or something.
“You didn’t like it?”
“No, it was great. I’m just tired.”
“Uh huh.”
She glances at me through her lashes.
“Too tired for a drive?” I ask her.
“Where?”
“D’you have to know everything, Melinda?” I exhale.
“It makes things easier.” She shrugs.
“No, it makes life less exciting. Come on.” I drop forty dollars on the table and take her hand, standing her up.
We stand eye to eye, and I have trouble taking my hand from hers. But I do, and we head back out to the truck. I promise her a short drive, and it is. An empty plot of land just off campus, near the running trail I take. I pull the truck up to the field and set up the bay with the hatch down.
“Come on. Nothing will bite you.” Melinda stares at the plaid blanket I laid out like it has eyes.
I help her up into the truck, my hands lingering on her slender waist as I do. She doesn’t seem to notice, and I climb in after her, scooting up to lean on the back row.
“It’s nice, right?” The sun has set, and dusk is here. I grew up looking at beautiful skies like this, but it never gets old.
“Yeah. I’ve never really stopped to look at it.” Melinda hugs her knees to her chest and I resist the urge to touch her.
“Our next date will be a picnic, somewhere out here maybe.” I smirk at her.
Melinda looks up at me,
chewing her bottom lip like it has the answer she is looking for. “Date? I don’t know about that.” She sighs.
I hold back a groan of disapproval and lean into her gaze.
“Look, Melinda. We need to get real here.”
“Get real?”
“Yes, get real.”
“Pete,” she starts, but I interrupt.
I shake my head. “No. You know I want you, I know you want me. That kiss the other night was something, and I know you think so too. I get a sense you’re hung up on something from the past. It seems like you don’t know up from down right now, and that’s okay. But don’t deny that you like me, just because you don’t trust me. I don’t know if you think I’m a player or have some chase going on here, but I don’t. You want to pretend, but I know that deep down, you know better than all that.” My accent drawls on as I can’t hold back the emotion anymore.
This woman is damned frustrating, but I’m living for it at the same time. I see it in her eyes, right now, she wants this. And as I lean towards her, she doesn’t move away.
Not when my lips meet hers again, and when I hold her face in my hands. My rough thumbs contrast the soft skin of her cheekbones as I trace them, tilting her face upwards to me.
Melinda parts her soft lips and sighs against me as her fingers clutch my shoulder and I deepen the kiss. I let my tongue trace her mouth before it sweeps through to hers, and I capture her taste. Her fervor meets mine and, damn, it’s better than anything I have ever felt before.
We part with a sigh, our foreheads pressed against one another. I watch her lick her lips and pull back to meet my eyes. I search them for an answer, for a clue as to how she is feeling or what she is thinking.
She laments a sigh. “I do like you Pete, I just don’t want to hurt you.”
I smile softly at her and shake my head. My hand trails down her face, and I trace over her lips with my thumb before I take her hand.
“You can’t hurt me, Melinda. You can trust me, I trust you. Nothing can ever change that.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but I stop her by kissing her once. My lips hover over hers, “Nothing.”
MELINDA
