by T. I. Lowe
His voice is just as brilliant as Eddie Vedder’s. I say that reverently because I’m in love with Eddie Vedder, and Dillon knows this. He gives me this small, exclusive gift tonight, and I am reminded of how dear he has become to me over the years. He is my best friend, even though I am a little bit older than him. I know our friendship is not common, but as I’ve stated before, our circumstance has bound us together. We have always had a deep connection.
The song eases to a close and I quietly ask for just one more. Dillon says nothing, just takes off into another one of my favorites by Pearl Jam, “Black.” I let the melody and lyrics overtake me. I appreciate the moody intensity that alternative rock bands create in their melodies and lyrics. It feels more real to me than the cheesy pops songs my generation seems to crave. Not me. I live in a harsh, real world, so I guess I can relate more to this music. Pearl Jam, Creed, and Soundgarden are some of my favorites. Creed’s front man, Scott Strapp’s deep voice is another one I could listen to all day. Dillon can sing one of their songs, and I swear he sounds just like Strapp. Dillon owns all of their stuff and says Creed creates the type of music he wants to be able to create one day. I personally think Dillon already does. He is definitely a Pearl Jam fan as well, due to me, I think. All the guys have had to listen to whatever I want in my car over the last few years, and most of the time, it’s been Pearl Jam all the way. I close my eyes and listen to Dillon drone out lyrics full of a somber mood. It makes me think about disappointments and regrets and desires and confusion, how some are rewarded with a beautiful life and not understanding why others do not.
As the song fades, I open my eyes and find his staring back at me. A sly shudder creeps along my body and makes me feel uneasy. I know one day, and I feel like it’s going to be sooner rather than later, Dillon Bleu will walk out of my life and on towards a better one. He’s too talented not to. This little moment between us is bittersweet for me and causes tears to prick at my eyes.
He seems to pick up on it too and decides to make a joke instead of us addressing it seriously. “I wasn’t that bad, Jewels. Don’t get all weepy about it.” He rolls his eyes as he puts the guitar away. I grab a hymnal and hurl it towards his head, but he catches it in midair and grins at me. “No need in getting physical. You already beat me up one time tonight. Now how’s about you chauffeur me home?”
We make it outside and I take a deep breath of the cool, crisp night air, as I try to shake off the uneasiness that has taken hold of me. Dillon replaces the key under the flowerpot after he locks up. He glances at his watch again. Curfew is getting dangerously close for him now, but he seems hesitant. I lean against the side of the church and tilt my head up to check out the clear night sky. The moon is full and the stars are in abundance. I love these fresh peaceful nights. I’m in no rush due to not having a curfew, so I’m being a bit mean to Dillon by making him ask to go home. He’s not crazy about having to point out his dependence on me. He has a driver’s license, but Cora has refused to let him drive much yet. I know the main reason is she can’t afford a vehicle for him.
“You ready?” he asks casually now.
I glance over to him. He has his hands shoved in his jean pockets and is looking towards the Mustang. I shrug my shoulders as I gaze back up to the sky. “Hmm… I think I’m not quite ready to head home just yet. Let’s go somewhere.” I know he has to get home. Truly I do, but this is too fun. He’s starting to get fidgety. Cora is home waiting on him tonight. He can’t just sneak in as he does when she’s working.
I’m still gazing up at the night sky, when he pulls me towards him, abruptly. Before I know it, his mouth has met mine in anxious excitement. I’m stunned at first. Dillon has never tried anything like this. I stand here in his arms as his lips move fervently over mine, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I am kissing my best friend. I know I should push him away, but I don’t. I know it’s going to cost me, but I’m willing to pay the consequences later. Or that’s what I’m telling myself in this moment. It feels too exciting and incredible to stop.
The kiss continues, but the anxious rush is replaced by a sweet slowness that makes me shiver all over. Dillon holds me gently, with his hands threaded through my hair. My hands are resting on his chest and I can feel his heart hammering away. He begins this unexpected kiss passionately, but ends it slowly on a whisper—just as he would with one of his songs. He doesn’t release me, but eases back enough to look at me. It’s as if he is awaiting my reaction, but I’m stunned and can’t speak. I stare back at him with my eyes wide in surprise. He just pushed us over an invisible line and there’s no going back.
“Dillon…” I whisper after a while. I feel my eyebrows knit together in confusion.
He shakes his head, silently asking me to not say anything. So I don't, but shake my head somberly.
He evaporates the awkwardness in all of one sentence. “That’s for trying to make me miss curfew.” He smiles as he leans in for another kiss, but I ease back.
I grab his arm and look at his watch. He has ten minutes and is only one mile from home. I push him off of me. “If you take off in a sprint, you can make your curfew, Dimples.”
He looks at me confused, but then with understanding. He knows he has messed up, and is realizing I’m not about to take him home now. He lets out a long huff before taking off in a run down the parking lot towards the road.
“You stole that kiss, you jerk!” I holler behind him.
He keeps running but yells back, “You can take it back anytime you want!”
I shake my head and watch him run with all his might before he disappears into the darkness. I don’t feel bad about making him run home. I checked to make sure he was wearing his sneakers and not his boots first. I would have taken him home if he had on his boots… Maybe.
I stroll over to my car and prop myself up on the hood, trying to decipher what just happened. I don’t know how to react. I’m excited and confused all at the same time.
My mind struggles to wrap around the fact that I have just had my first real kiss with Dillon Bleu. I’ve kissed a few guys with a quick peck after a date, but that has always been the extent. I’ve never been with anyone I wanted to actually make out with before. I laugh out loud as I lie back on the hood. I just made out with my best friend.
I wait long enough to know Dillon has made it home before I head in that direction. The lights are off in his trailer as I park beside mine. I go inside quietly and ease into my dark room. I swap my clothes for a ratty shirt and pair of night pants before crawling into bed. I’m lying here still playing what happened, over and over. My lips are a bit tingly and feel swollen from his scruffy stubble. I run my fingers along them and smile in spite of it all.
I’m too excited to sleep, so I pull out my short stories journal. I try to get lost in the fictional world of a dark witch who unfortunately turns her black magic on her own wicked self. She is transformed into nothing more than a black shadow and drifts mournfully, waiting for someone to notice her. This is where I begin, end, and flip several pages to begin another story that feels more inspiring. This story is about best friends running away together on a sea adventure. They stow away on a ship and set out to explore the world. Of course, the girl falls madly in love with her best friend, and he in return. They spend the rest of their days on a deserted island, living off coconuts and love. This story is more fun to create than the witch one, and I fill page after page with their adventures.
I’m starting to doze off with my journal wrapped in my arms like a security blanket, when I hear a pinging sound that’s coming from outside my window. I try to ignore it, but someone is being pretty persistent tonight. It’s not an unusual occurrence. The whole crowd has done this exact gesture several dozen times apiece. Someone is always bored or needs to talk.
There are also those manhunt nights that you just can’t get out of. I’ve been practically dragged out of my window to participate in these late night games. The Shimmer Lakes Farm has the grandest corn pat
ch around, and my crowd never misses the opportunity to take advantage of it. We have always struck out after midnight and played tag in the pitch-black darkness of night. There’s just something so alluring about the night air rustling through the tall cornstalks as we wander about in the midst of them. We’ve only had a few mishaps over the years. Kyle plowed into a parked tractor one night while trying to outrun Dillon and ended up needing seven stitches over his right eye. This was a few years past the church break-in incident, so Cora took to tearing each of us up with a tree switch for that one. The other incident was minor, comparatively. We took to playing a manhunt tournament in the midst of growing season, and the twins just couldn’t resist the temptation of the abundant sweet corn. Those boys ate their weight in raw corn and then commenced to spending the next two days not being able to leave the bathroom. Their mom banished them to the bathrooms at the bathhouse. So for those few days you could find them sitting in the shade outside the building, normally with one either heading into the bathroom or coming out. Those boys were miserable. I figured that fresh corn should have flushed any worms out of them, but I’ve just never been quite sure …
I’m about to ignore the persistent visitor completely when my tired mind snaps into focus at the thought of it being one certain person. I sit up and ease the window above my bed open, but he has disappeared already. I’m disappointed until I spot him on his front steps with his guitar in his lap. We watch each other for a few beats before he starts strumming the melody to his promise of a song.
He plays it through several times as I watch on, his eyes never leaving mine. I’m beginning to wonder if this song is conveying a promise between just Dillon and me. Maybe it’s been a promise for a while and I’m only beginning to see its possibility tonight. I watch him until my eyes get too heavy to keep open. He nods his head in a gesture that says for me to lie down. I do, and continue to be serenaded until I drift off to sleep. I fight sleep as long as I can, because I know tomorrow the spell will be broken, and things will never be the same again.
Chapter Five
It’s been a few weeks since the kiss. We’ve decided to pretend it didn’t happen. Or Dillon has decided and I’ve had no choice but to go along with it. Okay, I guess, but now there’s an awkwardness between us. I knew it was a mistake. I just want my best friend back and things the way they were. Today is going to be totally weird. It’s Dillon’s sixteenth birthday. The guys are planning a celebration of sorts and are making me help out. That would be fine, except Max is trying to hook Dillon up with his cousin, Clare or Clara, or something like that. Nothing against her, but I’d rather not have to witness it. Since the kiss, Dillon has avoided me as well as other girls. It’s like I broke him of it somehow. I guess I’m that lousy of a kisser.
The morning after the kiss, everyone met up to help Aunt Evie scrub the small campground cabins down for the seasonal closing. That way, except for dusting and fresh linens, they would be ready for spring. The entire gang has graciously helped Aunt Evie out any time the opportunity presents itself since last spring. I know she knows we were all in on it, so she accepts the help without fuss. It really irked me when Dillon avoided me like the plague that day, always working on another cabin away from the one I worked on. I had begun to worry that he really thought I had some sort of rash as he had declared at the party. But I thought it was best to let it go and not bug him about his odd behavior. I know Dillon. He will come around eventually.
Just last week, Dillon and the twins were asked to perform with these two other guys at a free concert in the park. A guy named Trace Leigh, who plays the keyboard as well as sings, and Logan Carter, who plays a mean bass guitar, just split with a band they had played with for a few years. This concert was sort of a trial to see if the guys mesh. They were so excited. We all went to support them, but Dillon refused to ride with me. He actually asked his mom to drop him off and pick him up. That was a dead giveaway. What almost sixteen-year-old boy wants his mom escorting him around? Especially in front of these new dudes.
The weirdest part is that even though he has gone to weird measures to avoid me during the day, Dillon has not missed a night of serenading me with his promise of a song. Why do I know he is playing to me? I tested it to be sure. I’ve been waiting all kinds of late hours before I ease my window open. Never has the song begun until then. A few nights I’ve dozed off while waiting out a time to open my window, and he has waked me by the pelting of pebbles on my window until I open it and listen. I don’t get what’s going on, and it’s so blame frustrating. I’m getting ticked off just thinking about it. Maybe it’s some little crush and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. I guess only time will figure it out.
“Get the lead out, Jillian,” Kyle says as we work on finishing up the last garbage run for the day. “You drag your heels any slower and we gonna miss the party.” He slings another bag in the small truck’s bed before hopping back in the cramped cab. I slowly plop my bag into the bed and climb back in as well. I’m the only one who doesn’t look ridiculous driving the tiny truck. Kyle and the other boys have to hunch down, but their heads still touch the ceiling.
I slip the truck into first gear and ease up to the next batch of trash bags. “What’s the big rush? All we’re doing is meeting at the game room and giving him a stupid out-of-date deli cake,” I say.
Kyle cuts his green impatient eyes at me. “It’s Dillon’s flipping birthday. We gonna celebrate it the best we can.” He shakes his head at my uncaring attitude. “You’ve both been acting totally weird lately, like an old married couple who’s bickering. You need to knock it off.”
“What?” I slam the brakes and pull up the emergency brake handle so I can climb out for the last of the trash.
Kyle grabs my arm. “You heard me. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but you gotta get over it. We’re all he has, Jewels. Cora has to work a double at the diner today, so we are all he has.” Kyle very rarely calls me by the nickname Dillon has given me, so I know I need to listen. My brother is right, of course. Dillon has nobody but us, so it’s time I get over whatever it was that happened and remember what’s important.
We finish dumping the trash in the dumpster and head home quickly to wash. By the time I emerge from the shower, I’ve resolved to show Dillon a great birthday. I fish out a few twenties I had stashed for emergencies and send Kyle and Mave off on the task of grabbing up pizzas to go along with the cake.
While they are gone, I search through my clothes to find something nice. It’s a chilly night in this early November, but we are holding the party in the game room at the campground. It’s closed for the season, so it’s all ours. It looks like a slightly bigger version of the cedar cabins and is a big draw to campers, although it’s in severe need of upgrading. Since we won’t be outside in the cold, I decide to show Dillon and his date how nice I can look. I settle for a black leather miniskirt Leona gave me a while back, due to it being a bit big on her tiny frame. I’m about a size thicker than her, so it fits me like a glove. I rummage around until I find my deep-purple top with long sleeves. The neck is super wide, so it hangs off one shoulder, punk rock style, the way I like it. I finish the look with ankle boots and several studded belts. I apply minimal makeup and fluff my long wavy hair a bit before spritzing on some of the expensive perfume I lucked into from condo cleaning.
I head to the door, but pause. I need to give Dillon a gift. Not just any gift, but something as special and unique as he is. I head back to my stash of condo freebies and rummage around the colognes and shirts and guy shades, but nothing seems to fit the bill. I’m trying to come up with something when my eyes land on my journal. I have a few songs I’ve written since the kiss and have been too big of a coward to share them with him. Maybe this will be a good way to mend our little split. He is always begging me for more songs. I grab a pair of scissors and neatly free the songs from my journal. I roll them up in a tube and tie it with a leather cord that has a cross on it. It’s one of my favorit
e bracelets, and I think it makes for the proper bow.
I’ve brought along lots of my favorite music, and it’s booming through the speakers of the game room when Dillon walks in grinning, exposing those dimples under his stubble. He’s wearing an Oasis Rock Tour T-shirt with worn black jeans, and his leather jacket and boots. His hair is in disarray, the blue streak a bit more vibrant than the last time I saw him. Looks like someone has been to the beauty shop. The guy already looks like a rock legend, and I’m quite sure he will be one day. I’d bet on it. He meets my gaze with his own before traveling the length of me and back. When he meets my eyes again, I detect them filled with remorse. The look of me seems to make him uneasy, so he sidesteps and heads over to the guys. Great. The birthday hasn’t lessened the awkwardness in the least. Kyle hands him a soda and they all tear into the pizza. I’ve lost my appetite so I keep my distance. I hop up on top of the bar and sip on a soda while trying not to sulk. I’m ready to be over our weirdness, but I guess he is not.
Max strolls through the door a little bit later, with a tall bleached blonde in tow, and walks over to give Dillon a manly slap on the shoulder, at which Dillon actually winces. I catch that maybe something isn’t just right with his upper back, but he moves on so quickly that the boys don’t catch on. I smirk though, because I did. There’s not much this guy can get past me, and I’m pretty sure it is the same the other way around as well.
“What in the world has Max dragged along with him?” Leona asks beside me. She is swinging her long dangly legs to the beat of the music while she picks the pepperonis off her slice of pizza.
I swipe the discarded pepperonis and shrug as I try unsuccessfully to look away. I keep trying to avert my gaze, but find myself right back to staring at him and his company. “I think she’s Dillon’s birthday gift.” This causes Leona to laugh and I join in. This is so Max, to bring a girl as Dillon’s gift.
