Life in the No-Dating Zone

by Patricia B Tighe

  I sucked in a breath and bent toward the passenger seat until I heard his car go by. Why I thought I had to hold my breath to hide, I had no idea. But now came the really scary part. I was about to go introduce myself. I probably didn’t have to—talking to Gray’s family wasn’t necessary for the plan to work. But getting the present into Gray’s hands was. I just couldn’t chance leaving it in their mailbox. Not if I wanted him to open it when he got back from work tonight.

  The battle over the hose had turned into a full-on water fight. Even the man was getting sprayed. I shook out my tense hands, then checked my reflection in the visor mirror. I looked fine—more or less. At least my eyes weren’t puffy anymore from all the random crying I’d been doing.

  I adjusted my glasses even though they didn’t need it, then drove slowly down the street toward the house. The water battle continued. The littlest boy hung on the man’s forearm, trying to reach the hose, while the other boy, half of his red curls plastered to his head, tugged on the man’s fingers in a failing effort to loosen their grip on the hose. I pulled up to the curb and pressed the button to lower my window. All three water fighters paused in their battle.

  “Hi,” I said. “Is it safe to come out?”

  The man let go of the hose and the kids took that as a sign of surrender. They teamed up and squirted the man in the shirt. “Boys,” he said in one of those “obey me or else” tones.

  The kids froze, dropping their weapon to the grass.

  “We have company. Travis, go turn off the water, please.” He took a couple of steps toward me. “Pretty sure it’s okay.”

  My hands shook, but no going back now. I turned off the car and got out. The man watched me, a curious expression on his face. A face that looked a lot like Gray’s—strong cheekbones, blue eyes, and dark blond hair. If he wasn’t Gray’s father, he had to be some other relative.

  I walked over. Should I stick out my hand? No. The littlest boy had grabbed the man’s right hand. No hand to shake with. Stop worrying and just talk. “Hi, um, sorry to interrupt your game. I’m Claire Gardner. I’m a friend of Gray’s.”

  “He’s gone,” the redheaded boy said, appearing from behind the man.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Gray’s dad, Justin Langley.” He tried to stick out his hand, then realized he had a small human attached to it. He grinned. “And this is Marcus.” The little blond-headed boy smiled showing one missing front tooth and one only halfway in. “And this”—he placed a hand on the older boy’s wet curls—“is Travis, who is right, I’m afraid. Gray went to work just a few minutes ago.”

  I smiled at Travis, but he just squinted at me. “Are you Grayson’s girlfriend?”

  Heat rushed into my cheeks, prickling my skin. Could this get any more awkward? Of course it could. Because for some stupid reason I answered his question. “Um, maybe?”

  Little Marcus giggled. “You’re all red!”

  Mr. Langley was fighting a smile. “Okay, boys, it’s almost time to go in. Round up your toys.” With varying amounts of grumbling, Gray’s brothers moved off to pick up baseball gloves, a softball, and a bunch of Nerf toys spread across the lawn.

  I made myself face Gray’s dad, who studied me like he could figure me out if he just stared hard enough. It was either talk or jump into the car and drive off. “I was, um, waiting for Gray to leave, actually. I have something—” I pulled a small gift-wrapped box out of my purse. “This is for him. Could you make sure he opens it when he gets home?”

  Mr. Langley looked perplexed. “Sure.”

  I handed him the box. Now came the hard part. “I also have another favor to ask you.”

  Fifty-Three

  Gray

  When I got home from work that night, my dad met me in the kitchen. “What’re you still doing up?” I asked.

  He rubbed one of his eyes, then leaned his elbows on the counter. “Waiting for you.” He pointed to a small box covered in yellow giftwrap with black bike wheels all over it. “A girl came by and left this for you. I promised you’d open it tonight.”

  A girl? Was it Claire? I was almost afraid to ask. What if it was from Nyssa? That would suck—but no different than anything else that had happened in the last couple of days. I dropped my car keys on the counter.

  “Grayson?”

  “What girl?”

  “Said her name was Claire.”

  I froze. For three full seconds, I actually thought about running through the house yelling like my little brothers. But, uh, no. I needed to stay cool. If my dad knew how excited I was, there’d be no end to the questions. “Claire came here?”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  “To our house.”

  Dad didn’t say anything, just leaned his head to one side. Like he was evaluating the whole situation. Crap. I had to do something quick. I turned away and grabbed a soda from the fridge. “When was this?”

  “Right after you left for work.”

  Had she just missed me? Or had she waited until I was gone on purpose? All at once I didn’t want to open that box. It was probably some final kiss-off. But that didn’t make sense. She’d already broken up with me. I took a swig of the cold soda, which made me burp. “What’d she say?”

  “Not much. Just that she had a present for you and wanted to make sure you’d open it tonight.”

  “Huh. Weird.”

  My dad picked up the present, considering it. “So which one is she?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, Stalker—”

  “Dad, seriously. Could you just leave it?”

  He chuckled. “Sure you don’t want to tell me? Get everything off your chest?”

  “How can I get everything off my chest when you’re holding something that could be important?” So much for hiding how I felt about it.

  “Right.” He handed me the box. “Open it.”

  “I will. I’m taking it to my room.”

  “Don’t wait, Grayson. You have to open it tonight.”

  “Why’re you being so pushy?”

  “Because I promised you’d open it. And I don’t want to let Claire down. She looks kind of scary.”

  I had to laugh at that. “Claire Gardner looks scary.”

  “Yes. Okay, no. But you know me. I’ve always been afraid of small women.”

  I headed for the stairs. “All I know is you’re shoveling it pretty high right now.”

  “Five minutes,” he called after me. “I’m checking in five minutes to make sure you open that thing.”

  I took the steps two at a time. Once in my room I set the box on my bed in the middle of my mound of sheets and blankets. I toed off my sneakers, staring at the present the whole time. It sat there like a trophy—or a snake waiting to bite. I was torn between wanting to rip it open and hiding it where I wouldn’t have to look at it. But my dad really would check to see if I’d opened it—he was anal that way.

  Right. I was being stupid. I sat on the bed, tore the wrapping off the box, and looked inside. A lemony scent filtered out, kind of the same smell as Claire’s house. Two little LEGO figures—a boy and a girl—both on bikes. I dumped them into my palm. The boy had blond hair and the girl had brown hair in a ponytail. Claire must’ve drawn the glasses on because the line looked a little squiggly. I smiled. But what did it all mean? She wanted to ride bikes? She’d asked if we could stay friends, hadn’t she?

  A quiet tap sounded on my door and my dad opened it a crack. “You open it?”

  I closed my fingers over the LEGOS. “Yeah.”

  “What’d she say?”

  Say? Duh. There must be a note in the box too. “Not now, Dad, okay?”

  “Okay. See you in the morning.”

  “Night.”

  I snatched up the box. Inside rested a small piece of paper I’d completely missed. It was a note from Claire, in clear, tiny handwriting.

  I’d like to talk to you. I’ll be outside your bedroom window from 11:30 to 12. Come talk to me. Please? C.
>
  I shot to my feet. She was outside? I ran to the window and opened it. No one there. Just a dim rectangle of light from my room. I checked the time on my phone. 12:05. Crap. Had she been out there this whole time thinking I didn’t want to talk to her? I got home late. She had to have seen I just got home.

  “Claire?” I said in as loud a whisper as I could manage. I didn’t want to wake up my brothers in the room next to mine. But nobody answered. “Claire? You out there?” I said louder. A shuffling noise came from the shadows. I squinted but couldn’t see anything. It was seriously dark on this side of the house.

  “Gray?” a soft voice said.

  “Claire? What’re you doing? Should I come down?”

  Fifty-Four

  Claire

  Gray’s voice sounded strained, but I didn’t want him to come outside. It would ruin everything. I had to be clever about this. “That depends,” I said.

  “On what?”

  “On whether you like what I have to say.”

  “Hmm. Okay. What’re you wearing anyway?”

  “A bathrobe.”

  He knelt in front of the window. “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

  He mumbled something. I couldn’t even begin to guess what, not with his face in shadow like it was. “What was that?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Now that the moment was here, I froze. What if he said he didn’t want to date me after all? What if I’d hurt him too much to get back together? With my pulse fluttering in my neck like a drunk butterfly, I swallowed. Too late to back out now. “So … some things have happened since we talked in the park.”

  “When you broke up with me.”

  Raw pain leaked out with his words, making me wish I could hug him, that he was down here standing in front of me. If only I could take back that entire conversation. “I’m sorry, Gray,” I said. “I never should have done it.”

  He didn’t speak. In the distance, somebody revved a motorcycle and raced away in a high-pitched whine. I wanted to talk, to beg him to forgive me, but I waited. Just when I was about to crawl out of my skin, his voice came out hoarsely. “Are you saying you want to get back together?”

  “Yes, but mostly I want you to know how sorry I am.”

  “Okay.”

  The silence that followed made words gush out of my mouth. I wanted to slow down, but I couldn’t. I was too afraid he would shut the window and walk away. “I know it might be too late for us, but I’ve been thinking about what you said that day, about my parents’ marriage being about them and not me, and I realized I’ve been pushing people away. I broke my no-dating vow. I broke my vow and talked to my parents and things were seriously weird, but it’s all out there now. Their marriage is their deal and I don’t have to worry—well I might worry, but there’s really nothing I can do about their relationship. I can’t control it. And I don’t even want to anymore.”

  “It might not be too late,” he said. “But how can I be sure you won’t do the same thing again?”

  “I—”

  “I mean, we could get back together tonight and tomorrow you could change your mind.”

  I needed to reassure him, but I didn’t want to lie. “When I broke up with you before it was because of my vow. But that’s gone now. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. All I know is I want to be with you.”

  “Me too.”

  The warm tone in his voice wrapped itself around me like a hug. “You want to be with yourself?”

  He laughed and started to stand. “Claire, I—”

  I held up a hand. “No, wait! Don’t come down!”

  “Shhh. You’ll wake everybody up.”

  “I have some more things to say and I need you to stay up there.”

  “You can’t say them if I’m close to you?”

  “I could, but it would ruin … ”

  He knelt again. “Wait a sec. You’re doing a grand gesture, aren’t you? For me.”

  It sounded like he couldn’t believe it. “Yeah. I thought you already realized that.”

  He leaned back, and in those seconds when the light crossed his face, so did a smile. “Go ahead then. I want to see this.”

  In that moment, with him sounding like he wanted to laugh at me, I almost gave up the whole idea. But I’d gone to a lot of trouble. I needed him to know he was worth it all. “So, I’m about to explain what I like to call, ‘The Advantages of Dating Claire Gardner.’”

  “Okay,” he said, then cleared his throat.

  From my tote bag, I dug out the chef’s hat and placed it on my head. “First, you may not know this, but I’m a great cookie baker. I specialize in snickerdoodles.”

  “Those are my favorite!”

  “I know.”

  “How did you—”

  “Never mind that now. Second—” I took off the chef’s hat and my bathrobe, leaving them in a heap on the grass. Underneath I had on a lot of layers—the first being a vintage bowling shirt over shorts. I pulled out my yellow bowling glasses from the shirt pocket and switched them with my regular ones.

  “Wow. Nice glasses.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but I was enjoying myself too much to care. “Second, I’m all about fun. These are my bowling glasses. I love to bowl. A trait every red-blooded American should have.”

  “If you say so.”

  I carefully put my bowling glasses in their case in the tote bag, replaced my regular glasses, and started unbuttoning the bowling shirt.

  “Uh, Claire? Can I come down now?”

  I laughed. “Nope.” Under the bowling shirt, I wore my LEGOLAND T-shirt. “Third, I love LEGOS. I love building things with them. I love how cute they are.”

  “Cute?”

  “Yes. And if you date me, you’ll have the chance to build with me. We might even be able to make a LEGO pull-back-and-go car.”

  “A definite plus.”

  “And finally—” I pulled off my T-shirt and stepped out of my shorts to reveal bike shorts and a tight-fitting jogging T. “I like to do exercisey things. I’m not a great cyclist, but I’m willing to try. I also like to run.”

  A high-pitched voice came from the window next to Gray’s. “Are you gonna take off all your clothes?”

  I jerked at the same time that Gray let out a startled, “Travis!” He banged his window down and disappeared.

  Giggling and scuffling came from the little boys’ room. “Can I have some of the cookies?” one of them squeaked out as he was yanked away from the window.

  Heat raced up my cheeks even though they were just two little boys. What if Gray’s father had been listening, too? Okay, just hide me under a rock. I’ll come out around Christmas. But maybe, just maybe, he was too polite to listen. I could only hope. Anyway, I couldn’t do anything about it. I started stuffing all my extra clothes into the tote bag while I waited for Gray to come back to his window.

  But he didn’t. A few seconds later a door banged shut and Gray came jogging around the corner of the house. He stopped in front of me, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He lifted a hand like he wanted to touch me, then let it drop. “Sorry about that. Were you done? I can stand over there against the house if you weren’t. My dad promised to keep them from interrupting us again.”

  I stood, still clutching my bowling shirt in one hand. “I’m pretty much done.”

  “That’s it? Those are all the advantages of dating Claire Gardner?” He shifted closer and trailed his fingertips across my cheek. The light, familiar scent of popcorn filled my nostrils.

  I shivered, and the bowling shirt slipped from my fingers. I tried to keep my voice casual, but it came out rushed. “There may be others, but I figured those were the top ones.”

  “Hmm. Seems like you left out a couple.” He gently pulled me against him and kissed me.

  Warmth ran through me. I wound my fingers into his hair. I wanted to sink into him, give everything over to the sensation of t
hat kiss. But I couldn’t. There were still things I needed to know. I pulled back, keeping my hands around the back of his neck. “Does this mean you forgive me?” I whispered.

  For a second it looked like he didn’t know what I was talking about, but then he smiled. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Even though we don’t know what might happen tomorrow?”

  He lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug. “I’ll just have to trust you. Besides, I’m not planning on dating you.”

  Everything inside me fell to my toes. “What?”

  He took my hand and led me into the shadows beside his house. “Dating is overrated,” he whispered. “Instead I’m gonna show you every day how awesome you are.” And before I could even think of a response he kissed me again, long and hard. I clung to him, his arms around me so tight I was lifted onto my toes. All the feelings of the last few days erupted when our lips touched—as though we couldn’t communicate them in any other way.

  When we finally came up for air, he said in a low voice, “Forget dating. Just think boyfriend and girlfriend—best friends who do lots of stuff together.”

  I let out a shaky laugh. “Okay.”

  “And there will be kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.”

  “Definitely an advantage of being best friends with Gray Langley.”

  “Definitely. And I know everything will turn out great.”

  I rested my head on his chest. “How?”

  “Because I’ve just fallen in love with bowling.”

  Love? Yeah, that must be what this crazy swirling sensation was. His voice had rumbled against my ear when he spoke, and I inhaled deeply, trying to breathe him in—every single part of him. But mostly I got that one familiar scent. It made me smile. I took his face in my hands. “And I’ve just fallen in love with popcorn.”