And finally, it happens. I think I’ve actually caused him pain.
“Ow,” he laughs. “That was good.”
I grin from ear to ear, proud of myself. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely. I mean it helps that you’re so…”
He looks at me funny. Like he forgot what he was going to say in the middle of saying it.
“So what?”
“So… athletic.” He clears his throat but seems frustrated. “Just make sure when you make your move, you make it fast. You don’t want him to know you’re coming. That gives him time to react. You need be a fucking ninja, black belt, comprende?”
“Um,” I laugh at his enthusiasm. “Yeah.”
“Okay, next, when he’s caught off guard because you just crushed the crook of his arm, you have a couple of options.”
“Which are?” This is really cool if I’m being honest. I feel liberated. Strong. Badass.
“Well, you could stomp on the top of his foot as hard as you can…”
He hesitates and I find it quite amusing that he looks a bit flustered. “Or?” I encourage him to go on.
“You could rack him in the balls.”
I choke at his bluntness. “Uhhh. I think I’ll take stomping his foot for ten thousand, Alex.” No way I’m touching someone’s balls.
Heath belts out a laugh I didn’t think was possible to come out of him. I can’t help but laugh with him. “Okay, black belt. Let’s practice both and hope you never need the latter.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He shows me how to twist my body after slamming my attacker’s arm, then teaches me the best way to get a bang for my buck when I stomp down onto the top of their foot. He says people have been known to break bones with this technique.
I wish I could have broken some of Z’s bones today.
I’m having the best time and feel triumphant the more we practice. But on my latest attempt to pull this thing off, I step wrong and twist too much and completely lose my balance.
I collide with Heath, who wasn’t expecting my body to come crashing full force into his. He loses his footing and the two of us slam to the ground with a loud thud. Lucky for me, I have Heath’s body keeping me from hurting anything. Unlucky for him, his head is what made the thud.
“Oh my god! Are you okay?” I ask him as his eyes squint shut and he bites his lip to keep from saying anything he might regret.
“Fuck!”
Or not.
“I’m so sorry, Heath. I wasn’t focused enough and─”
It’s only now that I realize I’m flush against him. And it feels really good. So good.
His hands are on my hips. And his lips are so close to mine. I can feel his heart beating against mine.
“I’m fine.” He opens his eyes and looks into mine. “Are you okay?”
My cheeks are hot and the rest of me… well… let’s just say I need some distance. I am so not fine right now. So, I roll off him and sit up, embarrassed a little. I hope he didn't notice I’m shivering.
“I’m good. I’m so sorry. Really.”
“It’s all good, black belt.” He sits up and rubs the back of his head. “Shit happens. You can’t be perfect every moment of your life.”
His words hit home.
It’s too bad my parents don’t feel that way.
He brushes some leaves out of his hair and cracks his neck one side at a time. His eyes grow dark and his brow looks tense. I’m not sure if I’ve made him mad for falling on him or if it’s something else he’s thinking about.
“So, come here often?” I joke but he appears pensive.
“Used to.”
He leans his arms against his knees and lets out the longest sigh I’ve ever heard.
I wish I knew what was going on inside his head right now.
All I can do is guess while he picks a blade of grass to place between his teeth since he doesn’t have a toothpick.
As he stares out at the water, I take the opportunity to enjoy the quiet serenity this places gives instead of worrying about anything else. After a few minutes of silence, Heath decides he’s had enough of it.
“So that guy back at the school. Brad. Was that your─”
“No.” I know what he’s going to ask and I’m quick to extinguish the assumption.
Too quick, maybe. “I mean we did date, for a while, but he’s not taking our break up very well.” I kind of laugh but I don’t know why. It really bugs me Brad can’t catch a clue and back off. It’s not like there aren’t about a hundred girls waiting in line to take my place.
“No, didn’t seem like it.”
He scratches at his forearm and I attempt create some small talk that doesn’t involve my life at all.
“So, what’s your tattoo?” He looks down at it, then holds it out for me to see.
It’s not huge or overwhelming. It’s simple yet bold. A paintbrush, wrapped around an easel. Complete with paint cans and a portrait of someone I can’t quite make out. I find myself tracing along the outline of it.
There’s a date alongside the easel stand.
“What’s it mean?”
He doesn’t look like he’s going to tell me at first. I can’t exactly blame him. But then...
“My dad introduced me to art when I was around ten. He used to draw, too. I was getting into a bunch of shit with some of the kids at school. He didn’t want me getting kicked out. So he handed me a brush, a blank canvas and some paint, and said go to town, son.”
“That’s so cool.” I don’t think there’s anything I’ve really shared with mom or dad like that.
Except for the need to excel in school. And they didn’t teach me that so much as expected it from me.
“I didn’t wanna have anything to do with it at first,” Heath continues. “But he told me if I got into trouble again he was gonna make sure I regretted it via his belt. So, I figured what the hell. If it keeps me out of the dog house, right?”
I don’t know what to say to that. My parents have never laid a hand on me. To think that Heath’s father did makes me uncomfortable.
“So, is that the date he taught you?” I ask to distract myself from thinking about it. But I’m wrong. He shakes his head.
“It’s the day he died.”
“Oh. I’m─”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. I hate that shit.”
“Well, I don’t know what else to say.”
He turns and faces me. “Don’t say anything. It was a while ago. I’m okay, now.”
I don’t believe him, but I nod anyway.
“Can I ask you a question?” He seems to need to change the subject. I’m game.
“Sure.”
“Why’d you want to be alone?”
“What?”
“Earlier today, when Z found you. You told me you needed some alone time. What was that about?”
“Oh, um…” Crap. I wasn’t expecting this. I’m not the best at discussing my inner dealings with regards to life in general. Not with people I haven’t known for over a decade anyway.
For some reason, though, with Heath, I want to.
“I just... It’s my senior year, and my parents have this huge plan for me, and I should be so grateful for it, and them, and my education, and I totally am, but…”
“But?” he prods. I love looking into his eyes. He has the nicest, deepest, most beautiful blue eyes. You don’t see that very often in dark haired people.
“Charlotte?”
Right.
“But.” I take a breath. “I don’t want to go to Brown. And I don’t want to be in finance. I hate finance. I want to play volleyball at a division one school and have some freaking fun for once. I mean I still want to do great with my grades and all, but I want to live life, and figure my life out and try to be…”
“Free.”
“Yeah.”
God that felt good to say outloud. I haven’t even told Darin all of this yet. There’s never really a good time to say it. going to
Brown is our thing. It’s all set. He got his acceptance letter a month ago. A wonderful match to mine.
“So, what do you want to do?”
“I have no idea.” I laugh but I also want to cry. Heath tips my chin upward when I try to look down at the grass. When our eyes meet, his smile makes me smile.
“Don’t sweat it, black belt. Not a lot of kids our age do.”
“It doesn’t seem that way.” I think about Brad and Darin, and all the other people I know at Cresthill. They’ve all already submitted their majors and know exactly where they’re going and how they’re going to get there.
“Most of them are just following the path that’s been laid out for them. The others, well, they’re just lucky.”
The way he puts it makes me feel a little better, and I think about Darin for example, whose parents have always let him be who he is and make up his mind about what he wants to take in school. I’ve never once heard them give him a hard time about what he’s going to do or how much money he’ll make when he gets out into the real world. Or the type of person he’s going to be with and how that will reflect on him when he’s older.
He’s one of the lucky ones.
“What about you, Heath?” I ask him. Because clearly he knows what he wants to do. “Where are you planning on going after high school?”
He lets out a smallish chuckle. “I’ll be here, black belt. At the record store, earning a living as best I can for as long as I can until I’ve saved up enough money to get me out of this hell hole.”
“What do you mean? You’re not going to─”
“Do I look like the kind of guy who’s mom can afford to send me to Yale? Or hell, community college?”
“But─”
“She’s got a shit job at a shit factory and she spends most of her paycheck on booze and drugs. What’s left, she gets enough food for the fridge so the welfare workers can’t say she’s not feeding me.”
“Oh, jeez, Heath, I’m─”
“Don’t fucking say it, Charlotte.”
I want to cry for real now. I thought I had it bad. I reach out and take his hand and he lets me. I feel so useless right now. No amount of volunteering can make his situation better. It’s always going to suck.
He could easily have turned out like Z, but he’s not. He’s good.
Heath runs a free hand through his hair then uses it to lean back into the grass.
His other hand remains steadfast in mine.
“She wasn’t always like this,” he admits with a blank stare out at the water. The river is running faster than when we got here, I notice. “When Dad died, it was hard on her. She turned to whatever made her feel better, even if it was temporary. Eventually, she couldn’t stop herself.”
I want to take his pain away. Only I don’t know how. So, we sit there. Every once in awhile one of us says something or asks something of the other. And we answer. It’s not forced or awkward. It’s more like we’ve always done this. Sitting here, getting to know each other. It’s easy. It’s natural. It’s real.
Before I know it, the sun is setting and I panic. I haven’t spoken to my parents all day and my phone is still in my backpack. I haven’t checked it one time since I left to go clean up the Rapids this morning. And now I’m too scared to look.
“Shit.” I stand and brush the leaves and grass off of my jeans. Crap crap crap.
“Watch your language, there, black belt.” Heath jibes but this isn’t funny.
“I need to get home.” Mom and Dad are gonna be so angry.
He pushes himself up off the ground. “Okay,” he sounds disappointed. “Let’s get you home, then.”
I believe he’s taken me wrong but I can’t think straight enough to clarify my meaning. And within only a couple of short minutes, it feels like, we’re back on the bike and heading toward Cresthill.
I make an attempt to enjoy leaning against Heath’s body again, but honestly, all I can think about is how much trouble I’m going to be in when I get home. And how disappointed my mother is going to be when she finds out where I’ve been. And who I’ve been with.
At a stop light, not too far from school, Heath pushes his visor up and asks me, “Is your car at school?”
I shake my head. Darin had given me a ride today.
Jeez. What must be running through his mind. I’m sure Brad was happy to fill him in on the strange bad boy who showed up and whisked me away while he was inside filling out volunteer forms.
Ugh.
“Where do you live then?”
Should I tell him? My parents could be waiting angrily at the door for me, waiting to have Heath arrested for kidnapping me.
I’m surprised the police aren’t out searching for me, based on a missing person’s report they may or may not have filed.
In the end, I decide to give Heath directions.
I may as well own up to my mistakes.
Not that he’s one of them. I simply mean that I should have told them where I was today.
Then again, I might not have spent the past several hours with probably the best person I’ve ever met.
A few turns, three streets down, and we’re at my house.
“This is it,” I tell him with a tap on his shoulder. He turns the motorcycle off and swings a leg over to get off the bike. My heart skips a beat when he helps me off and removes my helmet.
As he’s brushing the hair out of my face, I find myself forgetting about what’s waiting for me inside my home, and thinking, once again, how many girls Heath Gooding has kissed?
“I hope I see you again,” he tells me. Those eyes. So intense. So meaningful.
“Me, too.” I don’t know if he even heard me.
Those lips. How can one set of lips be so perfectly shaped?
“Can I kiss you goodnight, black belt?”
Oh my god. He just... I can’t even speak. I have no idea how to speak anymore. So I just nod.
He holds my stare for an eternity before slipping a hand around the back of my neck. The other sits at my waist just inside my jacket. I can feel the warmth of his hands. It makes me want to explode. I hope he can’t tell my stomach is quivering right now. I feel like he could wrap his entire hand around my body and I wouldn't mind one bit.
Good Lord. I’m about to find out just how much experience he has.
I want to know. I’ve wanted to know since the moment I saw him this morning.
And when his lips touch mine, I feel like I’m the only one he’s ever kissed.
It’s a weak in the knees, butterflies in the stomach, head spinning kiss that doesn’t last nearly as long as I would like. His hand moves from my waist, to just below my bra and my body stiffens.
It’s not like Brad hasn’t cupped my boob over the shirt from time to time but this. Heath’s hands. They’re… I don’t know… experienced.
He pulls away from me and I’m a magnet drawn to his lips. I miss the heat of his body and the warmth of his tongue against mine already. My stomach is flip-flopping all over the place. My blood rushes like an angry river and I’m not ready for this day to end.
Every square inch of me is tingling. I’m practically floating.
Does he see it?
Did he take my body language wrong?
What do I say?
What do I do?
“Goodnight, Charlotte,” he whispers, then he places another kiss against my cheek.
Heath slides onto his bike and turns the key quickly.
“Don’t go yet,” I tell him but he doesn’t hear me over the sound of his engine. His helmet is on and he’s already gliding away before I can think of a way to make this night last a little longer. All I can do is watch him disappear down my dark, empty street.
For the first time since September, I’m not thinking about school ending.
Instead, I’m picturing my life beginning with the boy who just took my breath away.
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Tiny Threads by Jami Denise
Canada Square by Carrie Elks
The Talisman Chronicles by T.M. Franklin
Fireworks by Lindsey Gray
Holiday Cure for the Cursed by Lindsey Gray
What the Heart Wants: An Opposites Attract Anthology Page 30
