I'll Be the One

by Hazel James

  “I don’t know about that, but I’m definitely crushing on him. And on top of being hot, he can sing. Like, actually sing.” I think back to the last song he sang me and bite back a smile.

  “Huh. So this is what it looks like.”

  “What what looks like?”

  “You, gushing over a boy. I thought I’d have to wait until college to see it. I must say, you’re an adorable gusher. I’ve taught you well.” She flashes one of her champion smiles at me.

  “Yeah, yeah. I think he was flirting on the phone with me the other night. And he does this thing where he says embarrassing stuff and can’t stop talking, and it’s so cute,” I say, giggling.

  “Maybe we can all go to the movies this weekend. I’m hoping Harris will ask me.”

  “What happened to Tyler?”

  “Tyler?”

  “You know… last week… undying love?”

  “Oh,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “I’ve moved on. Keep up, Ray.”

  “Sorry, it’s hard sometimes. I should start writing this stuff down. Hey, speaking of your love life, it’s January sixth,

  and you haven’t gotten a delivery from Derrick. Think he finally got the hint?”

  “God, I fucking hope so. Maybe ‘Shove your flowers where the sun don’t shine’ finally got through that thick, shitty head of his.” Avery, despite her small stature, can make a sailor blush when she gets fired up. She and Derrick dated back in New York. When she moved here, they decided to stay together. Everything was fine until last July when he sexted her a picture of his junk. That didn’t piss her off, but the caption he sent with it sure did. Avery’s name isn’t Melissa. She told him to fuck off and lose her number, but ever since August, he’s sent her a bouquet of roses on the fifth of every month – their anniversary. He even came to her dad’s condo when she visited over Christmas in a pathetic attempt at getting her back. She spit in his face.

  Literally.

  Like I said, she’s fiery.

  “Here’s to a new year and new beginnings. With Harris, or whoever else,” I say, laughing. I pull into the parking lot of the Sweet Pea, and my stomach does a flip when I see James’ truck. The door jingles when we walk in and Avery heads toward the back to drop off her backpack. James is sitting in the corner booth and when his eyes lock on mine, I flash back to straddling him in my dream. Sweet mother of God.

  “Hello, School Wife.” I could seriously get used to being called that. Which is strange, considering I didn’t even know him three days ago. I do my best to walk toward him without tripping.

  “Hello, School Husband. Were you waiting long?”

  “Nah. I wanted to get here a few minutes early to fill out my application. Thanks again for putting in a good word for me. Avery’s aunt said I could start on Saturday.”

  “Glad to help,” I say, grinning. “This means you owe me, you know.” Me talking to Aunt Devin was for purely selfish reasons, but he doesn’t need to know that. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking your picture. That smile was too beautiful to pass up. I need it for your profile in my phone.”

  “First let me make sure it’s a good picture.” I snatch his phone from his hand and scroll to the Rs. My name isn’t there. “Busted,” I say, holding his contacts list up to him.

  “Your phone number isn’t stored under R. It’s under W.”

  “For Wheaton?

  “For Wife.”

  Well, hell.

  I really, really need to thank Mrs. Mason. “Sorry, your name isn’t stored under H. Or J, for that matter.” He grabs my phone and scrolls through my contacts.

  “New Guy? Really?”

  I laugh and take my phone back. “It’s a fitting name, I think.” He’s the new guy at school, and in my life. “Now smile, it’s my turn.” He sticks his tongue out instead, but I save the photo anyway. James and his tongue…

  “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Tennyson. My name is Avery and I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I start you off with something to drink?” Avery winks at me and it’s obvious that she’s really enjoying this. I’m so glad embarrassing me is on her list of things to do at work today.

  “I’ll have a Dr. Pepper float and an order of chili fries, please. You want anything, Ray?”

  “I’ll just have a Diet Coke float.”

  “Coming right up!” Avery bounces away, which is amazing considering she’s wearing three-inch heels. She might be a fashionista, but she’s great at what she does.

  “So. Project,” I say, connecting my tablet to the Sweet Pea Wi-Fi. “I looked up our salaries a little while ago, and we’re working with $75,000 a year. Today we’ve gotta figure out where we want to live and stuff.”

  “Do you mind if I come sit on your side? That way we can both see the screen?”

  Um, does a fat kid like cake? I smile and pat the space next to me. James swings around and brings with him a delicious cloud of cologne. For the first time, I notice his shirt. I guess I was too distracted by images of my dream during Economics to pay attention to his clothing.

  “Garth Brooks world tour, huh? I didn’t know you liked country music.”

  “I like all kinds of music. Garth is pretty much the man though. How can anyone not like him?”

  “When did you see him play?”

  “Before we left Topeka. It was such a great show!”

  “I dragged Avery to his concert last year in Raleigh. She hates country music. I wouldn’t say she’s a fan now, but at least she doesn’t skip over his songs on my iPod anymore. What’s your favorite song?”

  “Shameless.”

  His hands run up my arms and capture my face as he crushes his lips to mine. I grab onto his biceps to draw him closer while breathing in the wonderful scent of woodsy teenage masculinity.

  “Rachel?”

  My right hand, that traitorous bitch, is indeed grabbing onto his arm. But his lips are nowhere near mine. They are, however, fixed into a smirk.

  “Sorry, I um… just wanted to see if your shirt was as soft as it looked.” I pull my hand away and sit on it.

  “Here you are, lovebirds.” Avery sets our order on the table. She mouths “what are you waiting for?” and wiggles her eyebrows at me before walking away. If I could cut my hand off and slap her with it, I would.

  “So was it? As soft as it looked?” He laughs, and I swear his green eyes sparkle. I grab my float and turn my attention back to my tablet.

  “Like I was saying, we have $75,000 a year to work with,” I say, ignoring him. “Do you want to live in a house or an apartment?”

  “I could live in a shoebox with you and still be happy.” I look over at him. The sparkle in his eyes has been replaced by an intensity that makes me forget how to breathe for a moment. I’m not sure how this boyfriend thing is supposed to work, but if it has anything to do with those piercing green eyes and him licking his bottom lip like that, I’d like to sign up.

  “That may get a little hard during the holidays, though. I vote for looking at houses for rent.” He nods, and I open a new browser window.

  “Oh look, this one is nice!”

  “It’s also next to the interstate,” he says, pointing at the map. “Too much traffic. What about this one?”

  I scan the photos. “No backyard for our child. Oh, let’s look at this one!” I open a listing for a three-bedroom, two-bathroom house on a cul-de-sac. “Wow, that’s a huge kitchen. And there’s a deck that we could barbecue on.”

  “The master bedroom looks really nice too.” He enlarges the photo and bites the side of his lip. Somehow, I manage to keep my groan to myself. I imagine massaging his shoulders after a long day at the fire station and falling asleep in his arms with our feet tangled in the sheets. Wow, I’m really taking this fake marriage thing seriously.

  “Yeah, it’s a nice bedroom.” My gaze alternates between his lips and his eyes and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone this badly in my life. I have no idea what kind of Topeka voodoo thi
s guy is practicing. Instead, I take out my angst on my Diet Coke float. “So it looks like we’ve solved the problem of where we’re going to live.”

  “What’s up next?”

  “Car shopping.”

  I keep my hormones in check (I’m still sitting on my hand), and we make our way through the rest of the list. I look around to signal Avery for our check when I hear the door jingle.

  “Fuck.”

  James looks toward the door and his mouth hardens into a line. “This guy is up to no good.”

  “You know Avery’s ex-boyfriend?”

  “No, he just looks like a creepy asshole.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Derrick scans the restaurant and walks toward Avery’s mom carrying a bouquet of roses. His black hair is longer than it was last summer, but his good looks haven’t changed much. When Avery moved past the anger stage of their breakup and entered the sad stage, she cried over the beautiful children they’d never have. I tried to remind her that at least she wouldn’t be fighting three other women for his child support. Puerto Rican god or not, Derrick is bad news.

  “Hi, Mrs. Murphy. Is Avery working today? I wanted to give these to her.” Did he never get the message that her mom hates being called Mrs. Murphy? Not that he has permission to call her by her first name, either. That’s reserved for people she actually likes.

  “Hello, Derrick. She is, but she’s on the clock and doesn’t have time for socializing.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll wait until her shift is over.” She gives him a look that says “You’d better not” (I may also be confusing it with the “Go fuck yourself” look) and checks on one of her customers.

  I grab my phone and send Avery a warning.

  Me: New York City sent its trash to the Sweet Pea.

  Avery: Very funny, Ray. I’m telling the chef to spit in your next Diet Coke float.

  Me: I wish I was joking. And ew. You’re walking to work next time.

  Avery: Fuck.

  Avery’s mom heads toward our table. “Sorry I’m just now coming to say hi, kiddo.” She lowers her voice. “Did you know this douchebag was coming today?” Her head nods in Derrick’s direction.

  “No, I had no idea.”

  “He better not stay long and he for damn sure better not make Avery upset. That worthless piece of shit has caused enough trouble for her.” Clearly, I have no idea where Avery gets her mouth from. She glances toward James and looks back at me.

  “Oh, sorry. James, this is Mandy, Avery’s mom. Mandy, this is James, resident New Guy and my partner for the senior Economics project.”

  “Oh, you’re the one Devin just hired.”

  “That’s me. It’s nice to meet you ma’am.”

  “I’m not old enough to be a ma’am. Mandy’s fine.” She winks at James. “I’ve gotta get to the back. Y’all have a good afternoon.” She passes Avery on her way and plants a kiss on the top of her head.

  Avery walks around the counter, stops six feet away from Derrick and crosses her arms. “What do you want?”

  “To bring you these and tell you Happy New Year.” He holds the roses toward Avery. I have to admit, he’s ballsy. But mostly, he’s just stupid. I hope he’s wearing a cup. I never knew there was such a thing as designer combat boots, but Avery’s feet are living proof. Derrick’s balls should run and hide.

  “It was a Happy New Year until you walked in. Did you not understand my message at Christmas?”

  “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. I made a terrible mistake. But there is no other person in the world for me, Avery. We’re meant to be together. I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.”

  “Go to hell, Derrick. And take your flowers with you. You wasted a trip to North Carolina. Now get out of the diner before I call the cops.” She jerks her hand toward the door.

  “I’m not leaving until you take your flowers. And please read the card.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” She grabs the flowers, shoves Derrick out of the diner, and walks behind the counter with a wicked smile. “The garbage disposal was fixed earlier today and I’m so glad I have something to test it with.” Avery shreds the bouquet, card and all, then brushes her hands off and walks to our table.

  “Let this serve as a lesson for you, James. Either keep your pecker in your pants or type the right girl’s name when you sext her.” She lays the check on our table as if it’s a law enforcement citation.

  “Duly noted,” he says, swallowing, as Avery walks away. “Rachel, I promise that I’ll never send you a picture of my penis. And now that we know you don’t have one either, I’ll sleep well at night knowing you won’t send me one.”

  Facepalm.

  “I’ll take Embarrassing Topics for 400, Alex,” I say, smiling. “How much is my float?”

  “Don’t worry about it. This is our first date, so it’s on me.” He smiles again, but this one is different. This one has hope behind it. I know, because I’m wearing the same one.

  “First date, huh? I feel a little cheated. I’m missing out on the part where you drive me home and kiss me on the front porch.” Or at least, that’s what Avery tells me happens.

  “I could always follow you home, but I’d feel like a stalker. And then there’s your dad…”

  Oh yeah.

  That.

  “He’s not even home half the time.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “Mom’s too busy with all of her councils and committees. She’s like June Cleaver on crack.”

  She’s not a bad mom by any means; she’s just not a very active participant in my life. I’m much closer to Mandy and Aunt Devin, and that’s fine by me. The women in Avery’s house are loud and fierce, and I love them dearly. They are the family I choose to have. I once told Mandy how glad I was that her husband had a gay affair so she and Avery could move here. She laughed and said she was too, because her new Audi out-performed him on every level.

  “Well, since I can’t drive you home today, we need a first date do-over.”

  Yes, yes, yes, yes!

  “I think I could tolerate that, since you’re new and don’t really have any friends yet. I wouldn’t want you to be sitting at home bored out of your mind,” I tease.

  “Maybe we could finally settle this hot firefighter debate.” He does the lip-biting thing again and nudges my shoulder with his. My hand flies out from underneath my leg. Before it can get me in trouble again, I use it to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and rest it on the table.

  And.

  Then.

  He.

  Grabs.

  It.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, certain that I’m hallucinating again. But when I peek, it’s still there. What do I do? Maybe this is what Christopher Columbus felt like in the uncharted waters of the Atlantic. I look at James, but I still can’t think of anything to say. Well, nothing comprehensible anyway. He grabs a pen out of his backpack and turns my hand over. I watch his face for a hint of what he’s doing, but he offers no clues.

  “What are you writing?”

  “Something for you to read later,” he says with a small smile, closing my hand. I try to sneak a glance while he puts his pen away but his eyes snap back to me. “No cheating!” He clamps his hand over mine. “And since you can’t be trusted, you leave me no choice.” He opens my fist with his fingertips. We sit there for a moment, palm to palm, before he laces his fingers with mine. I’m sorry I called you a traitorous bitch, hand. You’re the best hand I’ve ever had.

  “And when do I get my hand back, Mr. Tennyson?”

  “When I walk you to your car and you leave.”

  I would have settled for “never,” but I suppose this will work too. I put my tablet in my backpack one-handed, but I can’t close the zipper. “Ahem. A little help since you’re holding my hand hostage?”

  “I’d be happy to. After all, marriage is about teamwork, right?”

  Yes, marriage is all about a lot of things. Like tal
king about penises and holding hands. I sling my backpack on my free shoulder and we head to the cashier. Before we can even make it past our row of booths, James tugs my hand back. A few moments later, a waiter drops a tray full of food.

  “Wow, good save. Thanks!” I’m having a pretty good non-first date, and I’m glad it didn’t end it with sweet tea, country fried steak and gravy down the front of my shirt. James leads me around the mess to the front of the restaurant. If I would have known he was going to hold my hand all the way to my car, I would have parked somewhere farther away. Like the end of the parking lot. Or the next town over. When we reach my car, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans me against the driver’s door and takes my other hand.

  “Thanks for meeting me today.”

  “Anything for Economics.” We share a quick laugh. Then he squeezes my hands and I forget about laughing or breathing or standing. Thank God he’s propping me up against my car.

  “I know this isn’t officially our first date, but I still really want to kiss you.” His eyes dip down to my lips and he brings his face closer to mine.

  “I think I could tolerate that. But I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” Closer.

  “We already talked about that.” Closer.

  “That means I’ve never kissed a boy. I could be a terrible kisser and ruin our non-first date.” Closer.

  “You worry too much.” Closer.

  I close my eyes. Seconds later, our lips touch. James lets go of my hands and cups my face. His mouth opens, so I open mine. His tongue reaches out, so I do the same. He leads me in this dance, our mouths exploring and tasting each other. He’s smiling when he pulls away, and presses his forehead to mine.

  “See, like I said. You worry too much.”

  I think I’m supposed to say something profound, this being my first kiss and all. So far, all I have is…

  “Wow.”

  I feel his chest moving as he chuckles. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “So I’ll see you tomorrow in class?”

  “Yup. I’ll be the one with the big smile on his face. You can text me later if you want.” He kisses me one last time before I unlock my door.

  I could worry on the drive home about my dad and track and rules about boyfriends. I could stress about figuring out how to spend time with James without being caught. But I don’t. Instead, I replay my first kiss over and over and over.