by Tessa Teevan
When he’d first told me that he wanted to start lifting weights, I’d rolled my eyes and given him a soft punch, telling him that he didn’t need muscles and, if he spent too much time in the gym, he’d start losing brain cells. In truth, I hadn’t wanted him to turn into one of those meatheads who drinks five protein shakes a day and tans so often that they look like my great-aunt’s favorite leather handbag from 1986 that she refuses to get rid of no matter how worn and cracked it gets. I had been afraid Jeremy would head down that path and my cute best friend with boy-next-door good looks would disappear.
Boy, had I been wrong.
He wasn’t bulky or veiny, and he didn’t resemble one of those super-tan, roid-rage machines in bodybuilding magazines. He was just…strong. Big. I never wanted him to let me go.
Mr. Turoff clapped, and my eyes popped back open. I frantically gazed around the room, making sure no one had witnessed my basking in all that was Jeremy Banks. I thought I was in the clear…until I saw Chris staring at me, slack-jawed. When I caught his gaze, his eyebrows narrowed. My cheeks heated, and I tore my eyes away from him.
Then I plastered a smile on and turned to my lab partner. “You ready for this?”
“Uhh…how about you take the lead on this one? I did all the fun stuff with the moldy Jell-O.”
My forehead wrinkled at the memory of it, so I nodded. “Works for me. But you’re going to have to help, you know? Earn your grade,” I teased, which caused him to pale. “Aww, Jeremy, don’t be nervous.” I picked up the forceps and snapped them in front of his face.
He scowled. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
A smirk played on my lips as I leaned in close. “That may be true, but you love me anyway,” I said.
“It’s my curse,” he muttered, but I didn’t miss the slow smile that crossed his lips.
“Whatever. You’re totally blessed to have me and you know it.”
He looked up, and a stupid strand of hair fell into his eyes. Then his lips twitched. “I know,” he answered softly.
My heart fluttered, and I had to get away. Not that it would be anything more than a momentary relief. Jeremy was never far enough away for me to stop thinking about.
“I’m going to get the specimen,” I said.
This time, I broke the moment. As I walked away, I mentally berated myself. I needed to stop thinking that these moments were even anything. I really needed to stop watching Dawson’s Creek and comparing them to us. I mean, look how it had turned out for them. That heartbreaking episode had ruined everything. Their romance. Their friendship. One mistake and it had all been for nothing. They were strangers now. I didn’t want that for me and Jeremy.
I didn’t even want Jeremy.
Did I?
Was I really comparing myself to fictional characters? God, I had to stop watching television.
“Ms. Sullivan, are you ready for this?” Mr. Turoff asked as I approached him.
Mr. Turoff was probably the coolest teacher I’d ever had. He made science fun and exciting. One time, he’d even lit a lab table on fire. I don’t recall what the lesson was, but it was definitely one of the coolest things I’d ever seen in school.
“I think so. But I’m not so sure about the star wide receiver,” I said, glancing back to where Jeremy was fiddling with the hem of his T-shirt.
Mr. Turoff let out a booming laugh and shook his head. “Then it’s a good thing he has you, isn’t it? Have fun,” he told me as he handed me my subject.
My nose wrinkled at the lifeless little green creature in my hands. But I resigned myself to the fact that there was a reason for this lesson, even if I had no idea what it was. Trust me, I wasn’t at all thrilled about this part of the curriculum, but I wasn’t squeamish by any means. Jeremy clearly was by the way his face turned green when I returned.
It was probably wrong to think about how adorable he was when he was nervous. I studied him for a quick beat. His eyes, hooded with consternation, were unblinking as beads of sweat dotted his creased forehead. The corners of his lips were drawn in a tight line, turned down at the ends. I knew it was time to put him out of his misery. While I might have been okay with spit shakes for all those years, that didn’t mean I was ready to let him vomit on my favorite pair of tennis shoes.
“You know I love you, right? Just as much as you love me?” I asked.
His mouth twitched as he turned to me. “Enough to always let me use the nun-chucks even though you suck with the sword?”
I laughed. “Exactly.” As I donned my safety goggles and handed him the instruction manual, I took pity on the way he was shaking. Leaning closer, I lowered my voice. “And just like always, I’m giving in. You be the guide. I’ll be the cutter. Sound good?”
The green tint washed away, and he nodded profusely and pulled me in for a warm hug, holding me close to his solid chest. “Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to have to start offering sexual favors or something.”
I pulled my head back but remained in his arms. “Dammit. I guess I should’ve held out a little while longer. I mean, I’ve seen how good you are at strokin’, but man, some hands-on experience might be nice, too.”
The boldness of my words surprised both of us. I bit my lip and waited for him to respond.
“If you really wanted that, Sierra, all you had to do was ask. And way to keep a guy in misery. If I’d have known a little strokin’ would’ve gotten me out of this, I would have offered weeks ago.”
I was frozen at his implication. I couldn’t tell if we were still kidding or stepping over a line that had never been breached. And then a goofy grin crossed his lips. He was kidding, of course. I should’ve known. That’s how Jeremy was. How we were. Always teasing. Never serious. As much as I’d always loved the dynamic, I was starting to hate it, too.
“But seriously, Sierra. Thank you. I love you. You’re the best.”
It was probably cliché, but I think another little part of me fell for Jeremy Banks right then and there. We’d said those three little words countless times. This was different, though. This time, those words brought on a whole flock of butterflies. This time, I wanted to rise on my tiptoes and kiss his lips.
A throat cleared, and I turned to see Mr. Turoff’s head inclined towards us, a single eyebrow lifted and his lips cocked in a lopsided, knowing smile. I jumped back from Jeremy and picked up the scalpel. His brow was raised, and a rush of embarrassment surged through me that my teacher had witnessed the interaction.
I turned my concentration to the little amphibian lying on my table. With less-than-expert precision, I placed the scalpel on the skin and held my breath all the way through the first incision. Surprisingly, it didn’t freak me out. When I glanced over at Jeremy, he wasn’t even paying attention. Rolling my eyes, I looked back down.
“What’s next?” I asked him.
A burst of exhilaration passed through me as he led me through the next few steps.
“Oh my God!” I declared. A thrilling sensation washed over me when the bones snapped beneath my fingertips.
“What?!” Jeremy asked, sounding distressed. He was holding his hands over his eyes, watching me through a tiny slit between his fingers.
“That was… that was amazing,” I breathed out.
“What?!” he repeated, his eyes widening behind his hands.
“Cutting into the sternum… It was…so freaking cool!” I exclaimed. “The crack and the pop. I feel so in control right now.”
The rest of the class went by rather quickly. I was lost in the dissection of that frog, fascinated with every step. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t about to apply to medical school or anything, and it was probably the last time I’d ever cut anything open. Still, it was such a rush. I hadn’t even realized I was in such deep concentration until the taste of blood tore me from my examination.
I cursed and wiped the lip I’d bitten into, looking up to find Jeremy staring at me. His eyebrows were lifted, one slightly more than the other, while his eyes were foc
used on me, watching intently. I didn't miss the way his lips were parted or how his face was flushed. So I narrowed my eyes and lifted the safety goggles up on my head.
“What? Do I have frog guts on me or something?”
He cleared his throat and shook his head as if trying to erase a thought. “Umm. No. No, you’re good. I’ve just never seen you so focused before. You were in your element. As gross as this whole thing is, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
My eyes widened, and my heart starting beating erratically. I told myself to calm down and not read too much into it. I needed to change the subject.
Taking the scalpel, I pointed to two bean-shaped organs inside the frog. “Congratulations, Daddy. It’s a boy! Check out the testes on this guy!”
He paled again.
This time, I was the moment ruiner, and I hated myself for it.
Freaking frog testes.
THE BUZZ IN THE air surrounding Navarre High School was similar to the one on the first day of school. This one, however, was more electric. More excited. We were one assembly away from stepping out into the sunshine and enjoying the next three months on the beach, not worrying about a single thing.
I, however, wasn’t excited in the least bit. Not even close.
Frankly, this summer was going to blow.
I scowled when I saw Sierra leaning back against the wall outside the field house. Danny Moyer, quarterback and asshole extraordinaire, was next to her with his arm over her head, pressed against the building. He was gazing down at her and standing far too close for my taste. I was waiting for Sierra to roll her eyes at his obvious flirtations and push him away, but she didn’t. No, Sierra did the opposite. My stomach clenched tight when she fluttered her lashes and smiled up at him. The bright, shining, wide smile that was usually reserved for me.
Fuck.
One of my buddies and teammates, Jace McAllister, shoulder-bumped me and grinned. “You better go save the day, Banks, before Moyer sinks his claws into your best friend.”
I frowned, wrinkling my brow. “What are you talking about?”
He chuckled. “Somehow Sierra’s completely flown under the Moyer radar all year, but after the way she cheered for you at our last baseball game? Not anymore. And, since he and Heather broke up, he’s on the hunt for his next piece of arm candy.”
“He and Heather broke up?” That was news to me. It made sense though, since I’d found a note with her number in my locker last week. Not that I’d ever use it. Heather Perkinson was a little too…perky for my taste.
“Yep,” he said, popping the P. “And the other word on the street is that she’s ready to move from the quarterback to his star receiver. Wouldn’t that be something? You and Heather, Sierra and Danny? You two could double-date!” He laughed as if he’d just said the most hilarious thing.
“Jesus Chris, McAllister. Do you still have your man card, or did you lose it when you were playing bingo with the gossiping old ladies last night?”
He just shook his head. “I’m just giving you a fair warning, Banks. You may be quick on the football field, but you’re clearly slow when it comes to matters of the heart.”
I turned to gape at him. “Matters of the heart? Seriously, McAllister. Where do you come up with this shit?”
He started to speak, but I held a hand up to interrupt him.
“Wait. Don’t tell me. You spend your free time watching Titanic and crying every single time Rose lets Jack go.”
His face turned red, and I knew I was right. But he shrugged me off. “It takes a real man to be comfortable watching that shit. You just may learn a thing or two if you do.”
I was about to remind him that we were fifteen—for me, almost sixteen—year-old dudes. I wasn’t, for any reason, watching that shit.
“Jace, don’t let Jeremy fool you. When I made him go see Message in a Bottle, I caught him shedding a few tears. There’s a soft heart underneath all that brawn.”
My eyes widened when Sierra’s voice chimed in. God, how long had she been there?
“Nice to know, Sierra. I’m manly enough to admit I did the same. Damn Nicholas Sparks,” he said, shaking his head as if the memory were painful.
Which, indeed, it was. I had vowed that it was the last time Sierra got to drag me to a chick flick.
Jace turned back to me. “Think about what I said, Banks. Don’t strike out before you even have a chance to get up to bat.”
With that, he left us alone.
“What was that cryptic baseball metaphor in reference to?” she asked, staring at his back as he walked away from us.
“I have no idea. You know how that guy is. Romantic quips and all that shit. It’s a shock he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
“I know you’re being sarcastic, but you’re actually right. He’s super cute, and in those baseball pants? Whew,” she said, fanning herself.
My jealousy flared. “Seriously? You have a thing for Jace McAllister?” I asked, trying not to seethe.
She laughed, punching me in the arm. “Of course not. I just meant it is surprising he’s single. He’s good-looking, he’s sweet, and he’s smart. Any girl would be lucky to have him.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sierra, you just described me and I’m single, too. Where’s your outrage in that?”
She held her hands to her chest and let out an exaggerated gasp. “God, Jeremy. I just can’t believe it. You’re every girl’s wet dream, knight in shining armor, and perfect man all rolled into one.”
“Smartass.”
“You love me.”
“The paradoxical blessing and curse,” I muttered, causing her to laugh.
“Wow. A big word for such a meathead.”
“You love me,” I echoed, and she beamed at me.
A silence fell over us as we walked home together. If she only knew how true her statement had been. And how much I wished mine were as well.
“Why don’t we stay home tonight?” I asked Sierra as we neared her driveway. The truth was I didn’t want to share her. Not on our last night together.
She laughed and bumped her shoulder into mine. “What are you talking about, Jeremy? You’ve been excited about the end-of-school bash since you were invited by your teammates.”
She was right. Freshmen weren’t usually invited to the football team’s end-of-year beach bash. But, since I was on the varsity team, I’d been extended an invite, and I might have been a little bit smug about it.
“That was before I knew you were leaving me for two months.” I winced at the harshness in my voice.
“Oh,” was all she replied. Oh.
“I just don’t see why you have to go away for the summer. We’re supposed to be living it up. We’re no longer fresh meat. We need to party like its nineteen ninety-nine!”
She laughed so hard that she snorted. “You did not just Prince me.”
“You did not just use Prince as a verb,” I retorted.
“Whatever. In case you forgot, it is nineteen ninety-nine, Jer. We don’t have to party like it anymore. Plus, I’ll be back before school starts and we can party then,” she said.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “I still hate that you’re leaving for the entire summer.”
It was the truth. Things with Sierra and me had been evolving ever since we’d stepped foot into high school. It was like we had been transported to a place where just friendship couldn’t exist anymore. It was a slow burn, with little hints here and there, but neither of us made a move.
Call me chickenshit. I would agree. It’s just… The night she’d cried in my arms about Dawson and Joey having ruined everything in their friendship, she’d also made me promise to never let that happen between us. I wanted to point out that, one, it was fiction; two, Joey Potter had nothing on her; three, I was ten times cooler than Dawson, not to mention with a hell of a lot more game; and, four, it was fiction.
But I didn’t. Instead, I promised that would never happen to us. What I meant, however, was the heartbreak thing. Because
kissing her?
I’d had that thought over and over and over again.
In fact, just two weeks ago, I’d gotten tired of hiding my feelings. I’d just mustered up the courage to tell her how I felt when she’d dropped the bomb on me.
Okay, I was being dramatic. But still, it’d felt like a blow when she’d informed me that she was spending the summer in Ohio with her grandparents. I was torn. I wanted to shout from the rooftops that I had feelings for her. The thought of her meeting a guy in Ohio made me want to Hulk out. At the same time, though, it didn’t seem fair to tell her now, forcing us to start our relationship as a long-distance one.
I was getting ahead of myself. I didn’t even know if Sierra liked me like that, but a guy could hope, right? So I sucked up it and spent the next few weeks whining about her leaving me for an entire summer. I might have asked my mom what she thought about me going to Ohio, too, citing that I’d see a different part of the country and all, but she’d squashed that plan when she’d reminded me about football camp.
“Pick me up at eight?” she asked when we got to the edge of her driveway.
“Are you sure we can’t stay in tonight?” I made one last ditch effort to get her all to myself.
She laughed and shook her head. “No way. You’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. I’m not going to be the one to keep you from it.”
I let out an exasperated sigh and placed my hands on top of my head. “I don’t care! It’s one party. There will be plenty this summer.” I dropped my hands and grabbed one of hers. “But my time with you is limited, and I don’t want to share you.”
Her eyes dilated. Her voice was soft and slightly trembling when she said, “You’ll never have to share me, Jeremy. You should know that by now.”
Just like that, something inside me clicked. I didn’t want to share her. Not with anyone there. Not with anyone in Ohio. This was it. I couldn’t wait anymore. She needed to know, even if it meant we had to wait two months to really be together.
