by Sophia Ryan
Gena and I chose the racquetball class because it was right before lunch, so we had time to shower after class and not smell like ass sweat for the rest of the day.
"That's a good look for you, Angie," Gena said as we left the courts, a smile on her face as she took in the mess that was my appearance.
I always play full out, so some of my hair slipped out of the rubber band holding it back to hang limp down my face and my back. Sweat rolled down my body, soaking my clothes. My face was hot and probably void of the carefully applied makeup I had started the day with.
Gena's hair, which was thick, long, and naturally curly, stayed perfectly in the tight bun she'd created before class. Her smooth, latte skin glowed with a hint of coral on her cheeks, forehead, and chin. Sweat had taken her makeup, too, but she was one of the lucky ones who didn't even need makeup.
I started to toss back a witty burn, but then I saw Nick walking across the field toward me, and my mind went blank.
"Gena, you go on ahead. I forgot something on the court."
"I'll go with you," she offered.
"Thanks, but it might take me a while. Go ahead. Really." I think he looked at me, but there was so much sweat burning my eyes, I couldn't be sure.
"You want me to wait?"
"No, really, go ahead."
"If you're sure."
"Yes."
Gena headed to the showers while I headed back to the courts, excitement pulsing through me at the thought of what he would say to me. Then a girl in skinny jeans, four-inch-heeled boots, and a low-cut, body-hugging, red shirt that left nothing to the imagination joined him from the nearby basketball court and practically curled her body around his. As one, they changed course and headed toward the parking lot.
I stopped in my tracks. I should have been in the showers getting cleaned up for my next class, but I couldn't tear myself away. It was like passing a horrible car wreck –
you don't want to look, but you do; you can't help it.
He climbed on his bike and put on his helmet. His blond companion climbed on behind him, wrapped her bony arms around his waist, and leaned her milk jugs into his back. I heard her witchy cackle from where I stood, until the growl of the bike drowned it out.
A hot bolt of jealously seared into me. Maybe I was confused about whether I wanted him or not, but I was 100 percent sure I didn't want anyone else – especially her –
to have him.
"What are you still doing out here, Angie?" Gena had finished her shower and come looking for me. "We gotta get to class. Girl, you've been running on slow-mo for days. Is everything—"
"Why don't you just go if you're in such a freakin' hurry," I spat out and stormed toward the showers, tears mixing with the sweat on my face.
"Hey, why are you biting my head off?" I heard her ask in pained confusion.
I ran the rest of the way to the showers. I felt terrible about the way I treated Gena, but bitchiness was a byproduct of having too many emotions vying for control inside me: jealously, relief, anger, happiness, sadness, guilt, unfulfilled passion.
Why hadn't I left the river those many months ago when Nick had come out of the bushes? I knew he was trouble. I just couldn't resist the way he made me feel – sexy, passionate, daring, wanted, and loved.
As the cold water of the shower punished my skin, it came to me that as much as I desired the sweet forbidden fruit, I had done the right thing – for both of us. But how could I get rid of these feelings his leaving left behind?
* * * * *
I hardly saw Nick in the following weeks. And when I did, he carefully avoided me with his presence, if not his eyes. To make things worse, he took up company with that blond bimbo I had seen him leave with. Images of him loving her drove me crazy during the day. Dreams of him loving me drove me wild at night.
I thought it was what I wanted, what I needed to reclaim my old way of life.
I didn't talk with him again until right before Christmas break when I ran into him at a party. I was talking to the party's host, Matt Martinez, who had graduated from our school two years ago. He was telling me a story when he stopped in mid-sentence, noticed someone in the crowd, and smiled.
I turned to see who he was staring at, but the room was too packed.
"Nick," Matt yelled to be heard over the music. Panic stole my breath when I heard the name he was calling. "Nick . . . over here."
Then I saw him. He saw me, too, and paused for an instant. The look on his face said he was as shocked as I was. My heart, which had been dead since he and I broke up, felt its first glimmer of warmth and light. I wanted to run to Nick, throw my arms around him, kiss his mouth, taste him.
My light died when I saw the blond bitch on his arm. Jealousy stabbed me and I felt the blood boil up into my face, turning it hot and, I was sure, red. I wanted to slap him and scratch her eyes out.
Nick and the BB wove their way through the crowd to where Matt and I stood. As they drew closer, Matt grabbed Nick's hand in a warm clasp and did that chest bump hug guys do.
"Hey, man. Glad you finally made it. I was beginning to think you and my little honey lips had skipped town together. Come here, woman." He grabbed Honey Lips, pulled her into his arms, and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on her.
"Thanks for the ride, Nicky," she cooed. As Matt led her by the hand up the stairs that led to the bedrooms, Honey lips giggled.
I watched them ascend, looked at Nick, and then back up at the couple disappearing around the corner, then back at Nick. Surprise stole my voice.
"Chelsea's not my girlfriend."
Relief and joy washed over me, but I kept my tone coldly bland. "Did I ask?"
The corner of his mouth twitched up into a small smile. "You looked like you were worried about it."
"Believe me, I couldn't care less about who you do."
He went on like he hadn't heard me. "She's my cousin. I've been playing taxi since she wrecked her car."
"Again, did you hear me asking about your problems?"
"When we came in, you were looking at us like you wanted to kill us both."
I swear he could read my mind. "You must have imagined it."
"Some people think she's my girlfriend."
"Well, who wouldn't with her hanging all over you like she does?"
"I thought you hadn't noticed us?"
Ouch, busted! "Well, I only noticed it tonight only because you came in wearing her like stink on a skunk."
"C'mon, Angel. Be honest. You've been watching me in school. I've caught you watching."
"Don't flatter yourself. You could leave town and never come back, and I wouldn't even notice."
I wanted to take back the lies the second they tumbled from my mouth. The look that washed across his face had me wanting to cut out my tongue and hand it to him as a sacrificial apology. Before I could take that drastic action, Matt came back downstairs again and interjected his body between us.
"Chels wants an Equis." Then he looked up to a spot above our heads and smiled.
"Hey, man, Angie's under the mistletoe—go for it!" He laughed and strode off.
Nick and I looked up; sure enough, there was the large bunch of green plastic mistletoe hanging above our heads. Our eyes met and held. I had wanted Nick's kiss so bad for so long I often felt it warming my lips. Now that I was this close to getting it, I felt anything but warmed; my fingertips had gone cold and my heart was pounding in my throat. I was afraid and nervous, like a recovering alcoholic suddenly faced with the possibility of having a drink.
Nick's kiss came so lightly and quickly to my lips I didn't have a chance to respond or enjoy it.
"Merry Christmas, Angela," he said and disappeared into the crowd.
Suddenly feeling sick to my stomach, I gave my nearly full beer to one of the guys and went to find Gena. I told her I was going home. She wanted to stay awhile, so after making sure she had a ride home, I drove home alone.
After Christmas break he didn't come back to school. I was
too afraid to ask anyone about his disappearance.
Chapter Eight
The last semester of my senior year in high school should have been one of the craziest, most exciting times in my life. Instead it was filled with sadness and regret. I looked at the end of school and graduation with mixed feelings. On one hand it was a sign of all I had accomplished, but it also meant the end of life as I knew it. Changes were pressing in on me, and it was scary.
My parents wanted to buy me a spot in one of the ivy schools, but I chose the university that was closer to home. Gena accepted a scholarship to a prestigious west-coast school. She loved the water and couldn't wait to hit the sunny beaches of California.
I was sad to see her go. We had been best friends since grade school. We had been through almost everything together – all the firsts in our pre- and post-adolescent life: first kiss, first love, first period, first date, first sexual experience, everything.
I thought my time with Nick was one secret I could never share, though I wanted to desperately. I never realized just what a true friend she was until the day I helpd her pack to leave for college.
Almost all her possessions were stacked in the U-Haul. She and I were in her room, packing the remaining boxes.
"I'm really going to miss you, Gena," I said, putting her CDs into a large box.
"Oh, I'll miss you, too. And, there's only one going away present I want from you."
At my nod, she continued. "Tell me what was going on between you and Nick," she said, a huge grin on her face.
"What!" My voice squeaked out, pitchy and guilty.
"Oh, come on. You know exactly what I'm talking about—the thing that was going on between you and Nick." At my purposefully questioning look, she clarified. "Nick Donnelly."
"Really, Gena. I don't know what you're—" I began, only to be interrupted.
"Do you think I'm dumb and blind? I saw the way you two made goo-goo eyes at each other when you thought no one was looking. And everybody heard Sean's story about you and Nick. Most of them just brushed it aside as him trying to get back at you for dumping him. What I don't understand is why you and Nick didn't talk to each other in the open. Why you were keeping things secret."
I couldn't answer. I sat still, my head down, my eyes watching my fingers trace the multicolored patterns in the Hermes scarf I held in my hand.
"So, you gonna tell me what's going on?"
"Nothing. Haven't you noticed – he's gone."
"Well, what was going on, then. Come on, tell me. There was a time when we told each other everything."
"We still do . . . ."
"No—lately you've been quiet, secretive, sad. The only time I've ever seen you this sad was when your dog died. I'm sure this has to do with Nick. Now tell me."
"It's nothing, really. I guess we . . . we liked each other, sort of, but we decided not to do anything about it."
"Geeze, girl, why not? He's such a hunk. He's nice, smart, cool. What's not to like?"
My head shot up in surprise. "I didn't know you knew him."
"Yeah, I met him last year at a party—my brother knows his cousin—and we've talked some. But not nearly long enough to satisfy me."
"You said he's smart? I always thought . . . how do you know he's smart?"
"He's super smart. Remember that semester I worked in the office because I couldn't do PE? I was filing and just happened to see his record."
"And why did you just happen to see his record?"
"Promise you won't laugh? I've always had this little crush on Nick. I mean, he's so, I don't know, cool, rebellious, kind of a bad boy. At least that's what he wants everyone to believe."
"Did you ever think about getting together with him?
"In my fantasies, yes. But in reality, no."
"Why not?"
"I'm not his type."
"What's his type?"
She laughed. "You, obviously."
"What makes you think that?"
"I saw the way he looked at you. And, by the way you looked at him, I'd say he's your type, too."
"Gena, I . . . I've got to tell you something. I wanted to tell you this a long time ago, but I was afraid of . . . afraid you would think badly of me."
"There's not much you could do that would make me think badly of you, Angie.
Tell me."
"Nick and I, we . . . you're right, we liked each other."
"Well, duh, I already knew that."
"A lot."
"A lot . . . how much is a lot?"
"Well, we…we had sex."
Gena's eyes grew round with surprise. "That's a lot of liking. I didn't think you knew him THAT well. How long was this going on? I hope you were careful."
"Yes, we were careful and—"
"How did it happen?"
"Sean and I were parked down by the river, and we had a fight."
"No surprise there. Let me guess . . . he'd been drinking?"
"Duh. Well, he hit me, and I got out of the car to get away from him. I hid—"
"Wait a minute . . . Sean hit you?"
"Yes."
"The bastard! You never told me that either."
"That's why I broke up with him."
"Good choice. OK, back to Nick. You hid and then . . . ?"
"I hid in the bushes, and Sean left me. I was making my way back home when Nick just appeared. We had an instant attraction."
"And . . . ?"
"And it turned out to be the most . . . the most passionate, exciting night of my life."
"Damn girl! If I'd known he was that good, I'd have tried a little harder to get him."
I grabbed balls of socks piled next to me and pummeled her with them.
"So, what's the problem, Angie? Why didn't you two get together? Was he only interested in a one-night thing?"
"Well, it wasn't just a one-time thing . . . it was a many, many, many-time thing. But it's completely my fault we weren't together openly. He wanted us to be together, but I told him it wouldn't work between us. He guessed that what I was trying so hard not to say what that I was embarrassed by what my friends and family would think of me for being with him. He said I would never be happy if I didn't start taking chances. And, why are you nodding your head?"
"He's right. You know I love you, but I've always wished you'd loosen up a little, have more fun in your life. You need to take more chances."
"Are you saying I'm rigid and boring?"
"No. I just mean you should put some spice in your life now and then. Don't always do what someone else thinks the right thing is. My grandma always says: Worry more about what you think of you and less about what others think of you. So what if people said anything bad about you and Nick being together. You'd have been better off concentrating on what Nick thought about you and what you thought about him and on building a relationship . . . if that's what you wanted."
"Well, it's really all a dead point now; he's gone. Other than you, he's the only person who gets me. I was so happy with him. I felt so free. And I let him go."
"Yeah, I noticed he wasn't around this semester. Do you know where he is?
"No, not a clue. I wish I did know. I could make up for cheating us out of something that could have been wonderful."
"I'm really sorry."
Impulsively, I leaned over and hugged my friend. "Gena, I'm going to miss you so much. You've always been able to help me see the truth about myself."
"I've always tried but you didn't always want to see. Remember that time when we
. . . ."
We reminisced and laughed late into the night. Early the next morning, I said a tearful goodbye to my best friend.
* * * * *
A month after Gena left, I moved into one of the dorms at the university. None of my high school friends had chosen this school—in fact, I chose this school specifically because no one I knew would be there—so I was faced with meeting new friends. After two days alone, I would have given half my new wardrobe to see a familiar
face. "Be careful what you wish for, because you might get it." Had I headed that old saying I might have been better prepared for what happened the night of the dorms' get-acquainted dance, the weekend before classes began.
I went to the dance with my roommate, Joni Gabaldon, and her boyfriend, Dante.
Almost as soon as we got there, she and Dante moved onto the dance floor to make out.
I grabbed a cup of punch and walked back into the crowd to watch them dancing the slow song the band played. The couples moving slowly against each other made me wish I was out there, too. Suddenly I felt a pair of hands settle lightly at my waist. Before I could spin around to see who was there, I heard a voice whisper in my ear.
"Dance with me, Angel."
I knew that voice. Even before I turned around, I knew. Knowing that it was Nick still didn't prepare me for the sight of his soft green eyes, his full mouth, his hard body, his everything.
"Nick." His name was all I could say, as the smile stretched across my face.
He smiled at me, too, that crooked grin that never failed to ignite the flame inside me.
He put my cup down and pulled me onto the dance floor and into his arms.
"Nothing to say to an old friend?"
"I can't believe you're here."
"Yeah, I can imagine your surprise. You never thought of me as college-bound material, did you?"
"I don't ever recall you mentioning an interest in college."
"I don't ever recall you asking."
Of course, we were usually too busy to talk much when we were together. He didn't say it, but I could read it in his eyes. Since he wasn't blind, I figured he could see it in mine as well.
"Well, I'm glad you're here," I said.
"You're glad to see me?"
"I meant I'm glad you're going to college."
"So you're not glad to see me?"
"Yes, I'm . . . God, you still drive me crazy!" It was out before I realized the double meaning.
"You haven't changed," he said, and smiled.
"Neither have you, Nick Donnelly. You're just as insufferable as you always were."
"That's what you loved most about me."
I could think of one or two other things that tripped my trigger faster. "Sure, let's go with that."
