by Amy Harmon
“You heard him,” Chad said. “Let’s dance.”
Chad led me onto the dance floor. I felt old and conspicuous and wondered if Chad was going to be rhythmically challenged on slow songs as well. “This is how it’s done,” he said to a few of the couples around us. He pulled me into his arms in a formal position, one hand on my back and one hand holding mine out to the side. And his rhythm was fine. In fact, it was really good. He was an excellent dancer and we moved comfortably to the music.
“Thanks for coming with me,” he said into my hair.
“It was fun. Thanks for inviting me.”
“You must have forgotten that you invited me,” he said.
“Oh right. Well, I’m glad I did.”
“Me too.” I could feel Chad’s breath in my hair. I was keenly aware of his hand on my back. I was glad we were chaperoning. It helped me resist the urge to snuggle in closer. That would be a bad move. We had to keep things friendly to set a proper example for Chad’s students. Besides, I had no business wanting to snuggle in closer. What was I thinking?
And then, near the end of the song, he pulled my hand in closer and his steps became smaller. His arm tightened around me and I was frustrated with how good it felt. I knew I should want the song to end immediately and yet I dreaded that last note.
Chad didn’t let go until the last note had faded out completely. We stood there for just a moment after the music ended. Then he brushed his lips against my temple. I had a little trouble catching my breath. I wasn’t supposed to let him like me. And I wasn’t supposed to like the way it felt in his arms. I needed some air and some perspective.
“Do you have to help clean up?” I asked. Chad’s hand was still on my back.
“Not technically. My job is to wait until all the students are gone. Last time I chaperoned, I helped put away chairs and tables.” His hand was still on my back.
“I can help.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind? If you’re tired, you can just sit down and wait for me.” His hand was still on my back.
“I don’t mind at all. Should I help clean up the refreshments or help you with the chairs?”
“Whichever you want.” His hand was still on my back.
“I’ll just go help with the refreshments.”
“I’ll come get you in a few minutes,” Chad said. He took his hand off my back and moved toward some chairs.
When the students were all gone and the gymnasium again looked like a gymnasium, Chad drove me home.
“That might have been the most fun I’ve ever had at a school dance,” Chad said.
“More fun than with scavenger hunt girl?” I asked.
“Definitely more fun than that. I don’t think she actually wanted to go with me that night,” Chad said
“I had fun. I wish I’d recorded you dancing. I could have made a fortune off that.”
“Thanks for coming.” Chad hugged me and I wished we were still on the dance floor. It was much easier to pull away when we were surrounded by dozens of teenage eyes. Here, by ourselves, I just wanted to burrow into his arms and stay there. I knew I needed to go inside. Chad held me close with one hand and played with my hair with the other. I tried to call to mind Matt’s face and when that didn’t work I thought about Mr. Darcy. Even his face was a little hazy. All I could really think about was how warm and solid Chad felt and how much I wanted to stay right where I was.
“I’d better go,” Chad said. He took a step back and smiled at me, his hand still touching my hair.
“I’ll talk to you soon?” I said.
“Yeah. Very soon.”
Chapter Eight
I added a slice of cheese to my turkey sandwich and put it in a sandwich bag.
“Not going to the book store for lunch today?” Janessa asked.
“I am but I thought I’d eat a real sandwich on my way over today. Matt’s killing me with all the vegetarian food. Yesterday he ordered soup that was more like a peanut and vegetable paste. And it smelled bad. I couldn’t eat it and I was starving by the end of the day.”
“Has he ever asked you what you want to eat?” Janessa asked. I’d been eating lunch at the bookstore for two weeks now.
“No.”
“Does he realize you’re not a vegetarian?”
“He’s never asked me so he probably doesn’t know what I am.” I felt a little twinge of annoyance. Why hadn’t he asked me? I had just as much right to my meat as he did to his veggie paste. “I guess we should have this discussion,” I said. “It’s fine if he wants to eat that way, but I’m getting tired of it.”
I’d had a couple of annoyed twinges lately. The first had come when Matt was walking me to the front door after a bland lunch of bean sprout, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. He actually had the nerve to call it a BLT. That wasn’t disappointing at all. On the front porch, he leaned against the railing and looked across the street.
“I was thinking you might as well plan on lunch every day. Unless one of us needs to cancel for work, of course.”
My initial glee that he wanted to spend every lunch with me gradually turned to irritation as I walked the two blocks back to the bank. Was it really such a hassle to have to ask me to lunch? Was this all about convenience or desire to see me? And speaking of desire to see me, did Matt ever want to see me somewhere other than the bank or the bookstore? Why didn’t he ask me on a real date?
Just before ten Matt came into the bank. “I can’t do lunch today or tomorrow,” he said when he reached my window.
“Oh, that’s too bad.” I was glad I had a sandwich in the break room refrigerator. I wanted to know why he was cancelling but he didn’t offer an explanation. “I guess I’ll see you Monday?”
“Actually, I was wondering what you’re doing after work tonight. There’s a movie I’d like to see at Cinema 21.”
“That sounds fun.”
“I don’t know about fun. It’s a serious movie. But if you’d like to go, I thought we could see it together.”
“Sure,” I said hoping my voice didn’t sound as thrilled as I felt inside. I didn’t care if it was a documentary on quantum physics. Matt had asked me on a real, after-work-hours date. I was excited and relieved.
“If you can come to the bookstore after work, we’ll just go from there? We can grab a bowl of soup somewhere on our way.”
I agreed, hoping he’d take me to a normal restaurant with real soup like chicken noodle or clam chowder.
I ended up eating a bowl of vegetable barley soup. It could have used some beef in there but it was far and away the best thing I’d eaten so far with Matt.
The movie was called “Land of Indecision” and Matt was right. It was serious. There wasn’t a single smile in the entire movie. For more than two hours, two twenty-something attorneys talked. They’d been hired by a poor, old man who was dying of cancer. He’d found oil on his property and wanted to drill it to relieve his family’s financial burdens when he died. As the case unfolded, they spent many hours at the office talking, and the local bar talking, and the old man’s living room talking, and the car talking. The subject they discussed incessantly was how to fight an environmental group who was fighting his right to drill.
Two hours and ten minutes into the movie, the two attorneys had evolved into enlightened men who no longer felt comfortable helping the old man destroy the beauty of his property with the blight of drilling equipment. They spent ten minutes telling the broken-hearted man that the greatest gift he could give his children was his property, unsullied by the ugliness of development.
By the time the movie ended, I was depleted of all enthusiasm about this date and realized I’d have preferred an evening of scrubbing the public restrooms at the Greyhound station to sitting through such a pompous film.
“What would you like?” Matt asked after the movie. We were ordering at a coffee shop a few doors from the theater.
“I’d like some hot cocoa and one of those pecan sticky buns,” I said.
“Did you know hot cocoa has three times as many calories as a cup of coffee?” Matt asked.
“Did you know it’s more than three times as delicious?” I asked.
Matt laughed. It was a real laugh and I realized it was the first time I’d ever heard it. “You got me there,” he said. “We’ll take two cups of hot cocoa.”
“You don’t want a sticky bun?” I asked.
“I try to stay away from too many refined sugars. But maybe I’ll eat a bite of yours.”
“I suppose I can let you have a bite.”
“What did you think of the movie?” Matt asked when we’d found a table.
“I don’t think you want to know?”
“Of course I do.”
“I thought it was pretentious and boring.”
“Really?” Matt sounded surprised.
“Did you like it?” I asked.
“It was interesting. What was pretentious about it?”
“It seems like the filmmakers had an agenda and like they think they’re much smarter than the rest of us. They treated the old man like he was a fool. And nothing happened except talking and talking and more talking.”
“You don’t like movies that are mostly dialogue?”
“Actually, my favorite movies are mostly dialogue, but they’re about smart and interesting people talking to each other instead of pompous people just wanting to hear themselves speak.”
“Give me some examples.”
“I love classics like old Audrey Hepburn movies and I like period pieces like Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice.”
“Ah, romances.” Did he have to sound so patronizing?
“There’s nothing wrong with romances.”
Matt held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say there was,” he said, but his mouth was pulling into that little smirk I was starting to recognize as condescending.
“But you think there is, don’t you?”
“I just think there are more important things to think about than whether a man and woman are going to end up together.”
“I happen to think it’s one of the most important questions in the world.”
“Do you mean that?” Matt asked.
“If men and women don’t end up together, it will mean the end of civilization.”
“Whoa, you really take your romance seriously.”
I laughed. “I just prefer a good story about people and relationships. I go to a movie to be entertained, not lectured.”
“Well, I liked it, but I can see it might not be for everyone.” Matt took a drink of his hot cocoa. “This is really good. I’m glad I let you talk me into it.”
“Maybe I need to start twisting your arm more often.”
“You’re pretty spirited, aren’t you Elizabeth.”
“You think so?” No one had ever called me spirited before.
“I’ve never met anyone quite like you. You’re sweet and cute but if anyone crosses you, they’d better run for their lives.” Sweet and cute. Not exactly the words I’d have liked him to say, but sweet and cute was better than sour and ugly.
“I guess you’d better not cross me,” I said.
“Oh, Elizabeth. I have no desire to cross you.” Matt took a bite of my sticky bun and smiled. I felt like I was at Pemberley, watching Mr. Darcy smile for the first time.
It was almost midnight and my car looked lonely and forgotten when we reached the bank parking lot. Matt walked me to my car.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He took my hand and moved his thumb back and forth across my knuckles. I turned my hand in his and linked our fingers. I was holding hands with the closest thing to Mr. Darcy I’d ever met. That realization made it difficult to remember what I was doing tomorrow night. I looked at my hand and tried to concentrate. When I finally remembered, my heart sank.
“I’m going to a high school swim meet,” I said, wondering why he’d asked.
“I see. Sounds dreary.” Matt leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”
He got back in his car and was gone before I’d even unlocked my door.
Chapter Nine
I drove straight from work to Mt. Hood High School. Mt. Hood was one of the few schools with an on-campus swimming pool. The bleachers were small—only three rows high. I was glad I was early so I could choose a seat at the end. The air was heavy and wet and smelled of chlorine.
“Hi Lizzie. Did you pay? I was going to get you in for free.”
“Don’t worry about it. It was only three dollars.”
“I’m glad you could come.” Chad sat down on the bench beside me and handed me a sheet of paper printed with the team roster. “Just in case you want to know who’s swimming,” he said. “Watch this kid.” He pointed at the name Carter Stevens. “He came in second at state last year. He’s probably going to swim for the Oregon Ducks next year. And this boy here, Taylor Kennedy, he’s never been on a competitive team before. I came in during my free class one day and his PE class was swimming. He’s only a sophomore but I was impressed with how strong and fast he was. I talked him into joining the team. This is his first meet. I think I might be as nervous as he is.”
“How long have you been coaching?”
“This is my second year.”
“Woo, Coach Keller, what’s your girlfriend’s name?” Two swimmers in tight, navy blue suits that went from their waists to their knees walked past. I wasn’t sure if it was the girlfriend reference or their swimsuits that made me blush.
“I’d tell you if I thought it would help you swim better,” Chad said. “Go warm up. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“There are a lot of banners hanging in here,” I said. I hoped he’d look at the banners and not my hot cheeks. Of course, he was looking at me.
“I know. Mt. Hood has a good program. They’ve taken state six of the last ten years.”
“I’m impressed. You must be a good coach.”
“Oh, I wasn’t the coach when they took state,” Chad said.
“I know, but they hired you to take over their winning program. They must have a lot of confidence in you.”
“I don’t know about that. There are some great kids here.”
“You’re just being modest,” I said.
Chad patted my knee and started toward the team at the far end of the pool. He stopped and then turned around. “Don’t leave after the meet. I thought we could go get hamburgers and shakes.”
Hamburgers and shakes! The thought of sinking my teeth into a juicy hamburger made my mouth water. How did he know I was starved for some beef?
The swim meet was more fun than I expected. I watched Chad as he put his hands on the boys’ shoulders before they took their starting positions. He looked positive and encouraging. Carter Stevens took first in his race by half a pool length. In Taylor Kennedy’s first race, he had a rough start and came in fourth. When he came out of the water, Chad put his arm around him and pointed at the starting platform. Taylor nodded as Chad spoke. On his second race, he got a great start and narrowly missed first place. When he got out of the pool, he and Chad exchanged excited high fives.
The meet was over before I knew it and Mt. Hood had taken first place.
“You’re my good luck charm,” Chad said at Spencer’s, a little hamburger joint with fresh-baked buns and thick chocolate milkshakes.
“I don’t know if you guys needed any luck.”
I took the first bite of my bacon cheeseburger and moaned.
Chad laughed. “That good, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“Nothing better than a low-maintenance girl.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not,” I said.
“It’s the very highest praise. There’s nothing worse than a girl who’s never happy or satisfied with anything.”
“Well let me assure you that a good bacon cheeseburger and a chocolate shake is a sure way to put a smile on my face.” I grinned to prove my point.
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We sat in the booth and talked long after our hamburgers and milkshakes were gone. When the waitress started giving us dirty looks, we realized they were trying to close. “Sorry,” Chad said to the waitress and smiled at her as we walked past. “We were having so much fun we lost track of time. Hope we didn’t keep you too long.”
His smile disarmed her and she smiled back. “No problem. Have a good night.”
Chad walked me to my car. “We don’t have practice Monday,” he said, “so I was thinking that might be a good night to take you swimming.”
“Won’t you want to avoid from the pool on your night off?”
“Nah, I don’t mind. We can use the school pool and then we can get some dinner. I’ll let you decide if we go for hamburgers and shakes again or if you’d like to branch out a little.”
Monday would make six dates. The faster I reached the finish line, the faster I’d be able to focus on my relationship with Matt. And the faster I could rid myself of the guilty and confused feelings I felt when I was with Chad. He was so nice and funny and sweet. But he was also a far cry from Mr. Darcy and as much as I enjoyed his company, I couldn’t stand the thought of leading him on or hurting him.
“Sure. Monday sounds good.”
Chad closed the door and waved as I pulled out of the parking lot.
* * *
The recessed lights glowed from inside the pool. The water was smooth and quiet except for a gentle lapping sound by the vent. Chad flipped the switch and the room lit up.
I stuck a toe in the water to check the temperature.
“It’s heated so it should feel okay.”
The temperature felt fine but I was self-conscious and embarrassed. Chad stripped down to his swimsuit. I was relieved to see he was wearing regular swim trunks and not one of those form-fitting competition suits. His muscular shoulders provided more than enough distraction. He dove into the water with no hesitation. I’ve always been impressed when someone jumps right into the water. I usually step onto the first step, let my feet adjust to the temperature and then take another step. Ten minutes later, I’m finally in up to my shoulders. Putting my head in is a whole other issue.
