by White, L. C
“Look honey, I’ve got to go to Wellington for a few days. Nanna is having one of her bad turns. If I don’t, she’s going to discharge herself again, and we all know where that got us last time.”
I remember it well. Nanna is the most stubborn woman I have ever known. She has Crones disease, and a habit of not taking her meds. When she last had a flare, she discharged herself from the hospital, and invited herself to stay here. What was supposed to be a few days, turned into a month. As much as I love my Nan, her criticizing everything and anything, drove us all mad.
“When will you be back?” I ask.
“Hopefully before prom.” She gets all emotional. “I don’t want to miss that.” Tears coat her eyes.
“Mom, it’s fine.”
“I hate leaving you.”
“I’ll be okay,” I say, insistently. “This is damage limitation Mom. Remember what Nan did to the bathroom the last time she stayed.” Her nose scrunches at the thought.
“Okay,” she says in a breath. “I have rearranged your appointment with Dr. Bennett, and Kim’s Dad is going to check on you. If you have any problems whatsoever, you call me. You have any nightmares, anything, you let me know, and I’ll come as soon as I can.”
“Mom, I’m eighteen. This time next year I’ll be at college. I’m sure I can cope for a few days without you.”
Again tears shimmer over her eyes, as her face turns rosy. She grabs and pulls me close, blubbering on my shoulder.
“You’re growing up so fast.”
“Yes Mom.” I push her away. “You take care of Jake and Nan, and I’ll take care of myself.”
“No parties.” She laughs because she knows that will never happen.
“No parties.” I smile with her.
***
I sit down where I usually sit in physics class, pulling my folder out of my backpack. I’ve had a very peaceful morning so far. Kim called me as Marcus pulled up into school. She sounded awful, sneezing and choking down the receiver. She’s asked me to keep my eye on Luke, because she doesn’t trust him around Jessy McCall. I knew she’d fall for him. Weeks and weeks of her telling me it wasn’t serious between them, was all lies. I know Kim, and the moment she told me she was thinking about inviting him to her parents summer house in Florida, for spring break, I knew she wanted more than he could give. Luke is a jerk, and I’ve seen him play girls like this before. He gets bored and moves on, leaving broken hearts piling up behind him.
I tap my pen on my folder as I lean over the workbench, watching Mr. Kenzie scribbling on the white bored: Newton’s Law. He underlines it twice like we all have a problem reading his huge block capital words.
“Okay class.” He walks to the wall and flicks off the light, so only the projector lights up the room. “We’re going to pick up from last class; the laws of motion and force.”
Oh fantastic, another boring video demonstration. I regret picking this class. I’ve done okay, averaging a B plus. But it’s just so boring.
The classroom door flies open, and Tristen Blake stumbles in breathlessly. I quickly flick my eyes away from him. He’s not been in school for weeks now, and the thought of that last conversation, about him catching me in gym class, sends a rush of blood up my neck and cheeks. I don’t even know why he came to Mesa High, or why Principle Masters even considered his enrollment. He’s not shown any interest in academics at all. He’s only interested in causing chaos, like my heart is pounding chaotically right now.
Mr. Kenzie pauses the video, as all eyes land on Tristen at the back of class. All eyes apart from mine that is.
“Well, it’s so good of you to grace us with your presence, Mr. Blake,” Kenzie calls out.
My eyes are drawn to him. He’s glaring at Kenzie, thinking of some wisecrack to reply with, but gives up.
“Sorry, sir,” he says. “Won’t happen again.”
“Find a seat,” Kenzie drones, pressing play on the projector.
I become aware there is only one seat spare, next to me. Of all the days he had to come back to school, he chooses the day Kim is sick. The video starts, and all heads turn back to the front. I pointlessly look at the screen, but it is not that that has my attention, it is Tristen pulling out the stool beside me. Oh god, his knee has just accidently brushed against mine.
My teeth chomp hard on the inside of my cheek, as I aim not to show how his touch has me melting from within. I’m looking at the video, but not actually seeing a thing.
I can hear his breathing, and the fabric of his clothes brushing against the bench as he moves. My peripheral vision notes his torso leaning over, as he crosses his arms.
“Hey,” his low voice says.
I gulp down the constriction choking me, and angle my head to face him.
“Shush.”
I look back to the front, pretending his presence so close to me is nothing. He needs to leave me alone, so I can watch and learn from this very interesting video.
I listen to the scientist on screen, describing force as fortune telling, when my folder is quickly slid out from under my nose. I whip my head around to see Tristen’s finger flicking through my papers. He pulls out a blank sheet and begins to scribble on it. I should be trying to get my folder back, and telling Mr. Kenzie that Tristen is disturbing me. But I want to know what the hell he’s writing.
He quietly drops the pen onto the paper, and slides it over to me. I glance down and read, holding in a nervous breath.
Beth
Sorry about being an asshole the last time we spoke. I hate this place, and the only thing keeping me here, is the thought of you letting me take you out for coffee, as an apology.
My head angles up with a puzzled slant. I’m gawping at his glimmering deep copper eyes. He’s wearing a burgundy jacket, and my view is drawn onto the gray V-neck he’s wearing beneath. The movement of his breathing gives his solid chest emphasis, and that tattoo on his breast I haven’t seen properly, is tempting me to be more like Kim. Shit Beth, get a damn grip.
I fill my lungs as I scribble my sensible answer.
It’s fine, you don’t need to take me out for coffee.
I slide it back to him, and see a disappointed nod of his head as he writes in response. Why do I feel bad for refusing? I feel like I’m making one of those wrong choices, that will come back to haunt me.
He pushes the paper my way, and I lower my eyes to read.
You really should say yes, Beth. I don’t often ask girls out, and I promise if I don’t make you smile before the rim of the cup touches your lips, we can forget the whole thing. So again, have coffee with me?
An unexpected, totally instinctive, silent giggle leaves my mouth. He’s like this Jedi knight with words, able to bring out this hormonal desire in me. I know no one likes him, and if my friends found out, I’ll only be bombarded with criticism. But who do they think I am anyway… a nun? A good girl who shouldn’t be led astray, because I’m probably the only senior, who hasn’t put out in the girls bathroom. Why can’t I have some fun? I like Tristen. I don’t know what it is about him. His demigod body. His carefree attitude. His hot and cold vibes. Now this sweet persistent coffee invite. All of it is getting to me.
My heart pounds and tiny excited bubbles burst in my belly, as I jot down my answer.
Okay. Where and when?
I slide it to him and admire the way his eyes crease as he grins. He writes and sends it back my way.
After school, meet me at my bike x
Seeing the single x has me catching a sharp breath. I look up to the front of class. The muscles in my cheeks twitch. I’m dying to smile like the Cheshire cat, but that would just thrill him. I’ll have coffee with Tristen Blake, but I need to keep my wits about me. I’ve been stung by him before.
Chapter Nine: Hot and Cold
Beth
I arrive at Tristen’s bike, my shoulders stooped forward awkwardly. I thought he’d be here already, and now I’m standing in the god damn bikers den, being gawked at like fresh meat.<
br />
Jason saunters over to his macho chopper, grinning at me. It’s all leather, torn denim, and rugged stubble over here.
“Just can’t stay away, can you?” Jason calls over as I hug my backpack to my chest. “There’s been many a good girl lost over here.”
I shake my head down and tap my foot on the concrete. I’m passed caring what Jason thinks. He’s like god in this bike yard, but I can see right through him. I know he goes to church every Sunday with his parents. I’ve seen him pushing his gran around in her wheelchair, at the local store for groceries. And I once saw him delivering flowers to an ill neighbor on my street. So he isn’t as tough as he likes to make out. Really, he’s a pussy cat.
“Jason, go screw yourself,” I say, feeling proud for a millisecond, until his boots begin a slow stroll toward me.
“Hanging around with…”
“With what?” Tristen suddenly appears at Jason’s back.
“Nothing.” Jason almost cowers.
“Good.” Tristen pats Jason’s shoulder as he walks away.
I pout, wondering what has gone on between them. Jason never backs away from a fight. I’d love to know what dirt Tristen has, to make the almighty Jason skulk away like a frightened animal.
“Here.” Tristen smiles flirtatiously, holding one of two bike helmets out to me.
“Two helmets?”
Why bring two helmets to school, unless you expect to be giving someone a ride. In his head he already had me agreeing to have coffee with him. He had me hook, line, and sinker. I take the helmet with a frown.
“I couldn’t risk you hurting yourself, and I didn’t bank on a yes,” he says, tilting his view with a smile that melts all my doubt away. “You been on a bike before?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Yep.” I pull the helmet over my head. “Many times.” I giggle to myself, loving the bemused look on his face.
“Never thought you were that kind of girl, Beth.”
He fastens his helmet and lifts his boot over to straddle the seat. I make sure my bag straps are tight around my shoulders, and swing my leg over behind him. My skinny jeans crumple and rise, so I can feel the spring breeze flow over my ankles. He starts up the bike and the grumble makes my heart pound. I quickly and nervously thread my arms through his, and cling to his chest. I was exaggerating when I said many times. It was more like once, at my uncle’s birthday party, three years ago. But I couldn’t tell Tristen that.
He peers over his shoulder through the visor with laughing eyes. “Many times huh?”
I nod my head, my fingers gripping his jacket as he turns and we begin to move. Being this close to him, as my arms and legs clamp around his athletic body tighter, should have me gushing for him. But as he picks up speed, my eyes close in the fear I’m going to fall off. If he doesn’t come out of this journey with my fingernail scratches beneath his shirt, it will be a miracle. He senses my apprehension, and very briefly as we come out onto a straight stretch of smooth road, he runs his hand over mine. I relax a little, resting the helmet on his back.
***
I’ve lived here all my life, and only a twenty minute ride from Mesa High, is this stunning scenic hidey-hole. We are on the edge of Hallow Woods in a small clearing. I bend my knees several times as I pull off the helmet. I’m surrounded by trees, and the scent of wild flower makes me sneeze.
“Bless you,” Tristen says, taking the helmet from me, to hang it on the handle of the bike. “You have hay fever or something?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
I peer around at my surroundings further. There are small rustic tables and stools carved from the trees. And behind them is a small coffee hut. It’s so quiet, bright, and fresh. Tristen waves at the dark haired lady behind the counter like he knows her. I thought he was a bad boy biker. I presumed his kind of hangout would be anywhere with beer and girls. But no, Tristen Blake likes to hangout in delightful secluded places, lost in time.
“Hey Mary,” he says to the lady serving. “Can I get two specials?”
I notice strange symbols painted in red on the outside of the hut. There’s seven in total, and I haven’t the foggiest what they mean. I guess it fits in with the surroundings. Mary, the woodland, and the hut, it’s all very retro. A place that hasn’t changed in years.
“Sure you can, hun.”
Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, I have to keep telling myself. I knew he had hidden depths. But this goes way down deep. If Jason knew this, Tristen would be toast at school.
Tristen hands me a hot card cup. The steam that drifts up my nose smells wonderful. It’s coffee, but there is something else. A sweetness that makes my taste buds dance, before it has even entered my mouth.
He makes his way over to the table furthest away. Why, I don’t know. There is no one here apart from us.
He sits down on a stool, placing his coffee on the tabletop coated with shimmering beams of sunlight. I cough nervously, unzipping my hoody, and put my coffee down next to his. I sit down, trying to push the nerves tightening my throat away. I know I’m blushing. I bet my cheeks are as bright as a firefly’s butt. NASA is probably picking up an anomaly from space right now.
“Taste your coffee,” Tristen says, before taking a small sip.
I twirl my cup around and drink a little, as he watches my every move. Wow, it’s so smooth and sweet. It tastes natural, and has this honeycomb after taste. I think it’s the best coffee I’ve ever had. I close my eyes and sigh out.
“Good?” he asks.
I swiftly take a breath, realizing how stupid I look.
“So how does a guy like you, know about a place like this?” I ask.
“A guy like me?”
“Well, you’re not the au naturel hippy looking type.”
“I was made this way,” he says with a cocky smile.
“So you live here with your parents?”
“What you mean is, do I live in a trailer with my one parent?” His dark brow elevates. “No, my parents died just after I was born. But I do live in a trailer,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders.
I gaze at him as guilt eats me up. He’s all alone, and has had nothing but shit to contend with from the braindead at Mesa High.
“I’m really sorry about your parents,” I say with a croak in my throat.
“No, don’t be. It was a long time ago, so I don’t know any different.” Again he has this air of detachment in his voice. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had… right?”
I’ve only just scratched the surface, understanding the strange boy before me. I guess just the surface is good enough for me. I have this feeling I cannot explain. And as I watch his lips touching the rim of his card cup, I can literally sense how they feel against mine. My fingers involuntary come up to my mouth, and my knees clamp tight together beneath the table. He’s making my toes curl in my pumps, without doing a damn thing.
“Beth, you okay?”
Oh shit. I pretend to cough to hide the fact I’m fantasizing about him. Wow, this is so stupid and irrational. I like him, but there is something else. It has nothing to do with the dream I had. It’s a normal kind of connection. An empathy, as though I understand him.
“Yeah, sure.” I wiggle my tense shoulders.
“No you’re not. Do you want to talk about it,” he asks, his fingers come across the table and wrap around my wrist, gently. “It’s not like I have anyone to blab to.”
“I… I have these dreams, nightmares, well sleep paralysis, my shrink calls it,” I say so fast I have to catch a breath.
I expected him to release my wrist, fling his hands up and say, ‘well it was nice to have coffee with you.’ But he’s kneading my wrist supportively, and even though it’s extremely comforting he doesn’t think I’m a lunatic, it’s also weird. The understanding in his eyes tells me I can trust him with anything.
“You see the figures?” he asks.
“Yes.” I nearly jump up off the stool, stunned he knows what I’m talking about.
“You see them too?”
He smiles, releasing my arm as he leans back. “No, but I’ve heard about people seeing them. Count backward, over and over. It’s supposed to spark the brain cells; bring the body back to life,” he advises. “And be strong, because nothing can hurt you.” I bite my lip, trying to figure out how he knows so much about this. “Anyway, on a lighter note,” he says. “It’s homecoming. You going to that lame-ass dance?”
“Unfortunately, yeah,” I say, not wanting to tell him I’m going with Marcus.
“With Marcus?”
“Oh god,” I mumble, shaking my head down. “Yeah, but we’re not dating or anything.”
He chuckles. “I never thought you were.” He wraps his hand around my wrist again. “If I caught you earlier, I would have asked. But no one wants to go to the dance with the school asshole.”
“I might have said yes.” I smile.
His eyes freeze on me with a melancholy in them. His hand slides down over my hand to take my fingers in his. My lips straighten as my neck heats up.
“I like you,” he confesses, looking down at the table.
He goes silent. I don’t mind him liking me. It’s not a big deal. But something is clearly bothering him about his admission to me. I turn my palm upward so I can squeeze his warm fingers.
“Tristen, it’s fine,” I whisper.
“It’s not fine.” He peers up at me. “I have a lot of baggage and a job to do. If I don’t, I’m in trouble.”
“Well, do you want to talk about it?” I nervously ask, wondering if he’s in the mafia or something.
“I’d love to tell you everything. But words float in the air, and have a way of landing in the laps of those who screw life up. I won’t put you in danger. That’s why I brought you here. Peace for a while.”
“You’re so complicated,” I say in a growl.
He sniggers at me. “You have no idea.” He drinks the last bit of coffee from his cup. “Drink up. I’ll take you home before nightfall.”
He stands up from the stool and waits. I lift my cup to my lips and drink what’s left, frowning up at him. Was it stupid to think this could be something more? I guess so, now he’s so eager to take me home.
