Complete (Incomplete)

by Lindy Zart

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “You're throwing them around like they personally offended you.”

  “Well, the yellow ones did.”

  He crouches beside me, a grin on his lips. “Oh? What did they do?”

  I stare at the mums and marigolds splayed out before me, wondering the purpose of this conversation. Then I think, Does it have to have one? There is no reason why we cannot have a civil conversation or even joke around. Except there is. I shove any contradictory thoughts away and look at him. He is watching me carefully, his eyes slowly taking in my features. Covered in dirt and sweating like I am, I'm sure I look my absolute best.

  “They smell bad.”

  One eyebrow lifts as he reaches around me. I stop breathing when his arm grazes mine, a jolt going through me at the contact. He doesn't act like he notices it. Lifting a mum to his nose, he shrugs. “It smells okay to me.”

  “Good. You can plant them.”

  Grayson smirks. “Sorry. I have lawn-mowing duty.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Your mom called over and asked if I could help since she isn't feeling well and your dad had stuff to do at the shop today.”

  I look at the short grass around us. “That doesn't even make sense. First of all, the lawn doesn't need to be mowed. Second of all, Aidan usually mows it.”

  “He's at the movies with his friends. Apparently it was life or death if it didn't get mowed immediately.”

  “But...but...” I sputter.

  He pats my back and I stiffen. “It's okay, Lily. Everything will be okay.” Straightening, he asks, “Lawnmower in the shed out back?”

  “Yeah.” I watch him walk around the house, my gaze turning toward the window upstairs that belongs to my mom and dad's bedroom. What is she doing? And why is he acting all...friendly...toward me? And where is his girlfriend? My gaze goes to the house across the street, but no answers are found there.

  Watching a guy push a lawnmower up and down the length of a yard should not be sexy, yet with Grayson doing it, it is. I spend my time alternating between shoving flowers into freshly dug dirt and being distracted by him. I think I could watch him for hours. Then I realize I have been.

  His motions are fluid; music is threaded through his being even in the way he moves. The whir of the engine fills the air; as does the scent of freshly mowed grass. Every time our eyes connect, I swear heat flashes from his to mine. I am confused by everything about this, but I decide to just roll with it—because even as confounded as I am by the situation, I cannot regret these stolen moments spent near him.

  I finish with the flowers at around the same time Grayson finishes with the yard. I survey my handiwork. It isn't exactly perfect, but it will do. He stops beside me, the warmth of his body seeping into my side. He smells good, like sweat and deodorant and Grayson.

  “Were you able to reconcile your differences?”

  “Well, they're still in one piece so I guess so.” It feels weird to talk to him in such an easygoing way. Weird, but good.

  Grayson nods. “I'm glad. It would be a shame to hold a grudge.”

  I look at him. Is he talking about a flower...or us?

  The door opens and my mom beams at us, two glasses of iced tea in her hands. “I brought you tea!”

  I take a glass from her, sipping at the lemon tea. “It appears you have had an amazing recovery.”

  She doesn't look at me as she says, “My nap helped.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “The yard looks great. Thanks so much. Here, why don't you two sit down and relax?” My mom practically shoves me and Grayson at the wicker chairs. “I'm making cookies and I'll bring some right out.” She hurries back inside, like she knows if she lingers too long, I will confront her on her behavior—or leave. I could always leave.

  I sit down and hazard a glance at him. “Sorry about my mom.”

  He laughs. “Your mom is amazing.”

  “She's pushy.”

  “She means well.”

  “I doubt you want to be doing such trivial things as mowing lawns while you're here.”

  He shrugs, taking a drink of his tea. “I don't mind. It's kind of nice to do manual labor for a change.”

  “What do you normally do for manual labor? File your nails? Maybe flex your biceps for photo shoots?”

  “Ouch. You just demoralized my manhood. It may never recover.”

  A smile takes over my mouth. “I'm sure one simpering look from a female and it will be restored.”

  “Depends on the girl.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.”

  A snort is his only response.

  The gulf of time and our past stretches out between us. I have so many questions for him and I wonder just as many things, but I don't want to bring them up. This is nice. I can almost imagine he never left and nothing bad ever happened between us with how we're currently talking—almost. Except I am hurting just being near him. It hurts to not be able to touch him. It hurts that he is not only not mine but also someone else's. It even hurts to look at him.

  A heavy sigh leaves him. “It's so peaceful around here. I miss that. You can actually hear the birds. There's nothing to disguise their music—just air and clouds and grass all around. Even the shape of the houses are relaxing to look at; the wind like home brushing across your face.

  “There isn't the sound of partying and sirens to keep you awake at night, or—once you get so used to hearing them that they become part of your nightly routine—lull you to sleep. There is absolute silence in the dark.” His words are full of longing and make me think maybe he hasn't changed as much as I thought he had, or maybe he just misses who he used to be.

  I glance at him, but his face is turned away. “Where do you live?” A faint grin covers his lips as he looks at me, but he doesn't answer. So I continue, “You obviously need to leave the big city more. It's boring here. And it stinks.”

  “It does stink occasionally, I'll give you that. Farms.” He shrugs. “And boring or not, you love it here. Don't pretend you don't.”

  “Okay,” I agree. “I do love it here. Small towns may have their gossip and drama, but they do have their calmness and simplistic beauty as well. I wouldn't do well in a big city. I don't even like driving in Madison. It's scary.”

  “I know.” There is humor in his voice. “I remember.”

  My face heats up. “It wasn't my fault! You know it wasn't.”

  Grayson laughs. “It was sort of your fault.”

  “It wasn't intentional. I didn't see the car. And no one got hurt, so it's okay.”

  “True. Just your pride.”

  “He flipped me off!”

  “You cut him off.”

  “Details,” I grumble, chugging my drink to cover up my embarrassment.

  “Aidan's been filling me in on you.”

  My eyes narrow as I set my empty glass down, remembering his declaration to me the night of the cook-out. “Oh? And what has he been telling you?”

  He rubs his forehead, flicking a strand of grass from his finger. “He's been telling me you are depressed, that you never go outside, that you don't talk to anyone, and that you have been a blubbering mess of tears and pain since I left. Oh, he also mentioned you no longer bake him cookies. He was especially sad about that part.”

  I scowl. “That little shit.”

  Grayson laughs again. “I know. I kind of figured he was exaggerating.”

  “What gave it away?”

  “The part about you refusing to go on without me. Clearly you are.”

  “At least you can say the same, right?” My tone is snippy and the look Grayson sends my way says he caught it.

  My mom comes out with a plate of cookies and a wink directed at me, disappearing as quickly as she appeared. I drop my head against the back of the wicker chair and sigh.

  “Your mom seems to have the same idea as Aidan.”

  I straighten, trying to keep my expression blank as I face him. “What idea is that?�
�

  His face loses all traces of humor as he studies me. I wonder what he is trying to find as he gazes into my eyes. The moment passes and he puts his teasing smirk back on, looking away as he says, “That we need to be together again.” His voice has a certain hollowness to it that gives me pause.

  “They know nothing,” I scoff, crossing my arms and staring at a car as it slowly moves down the street.

  “Absolutely nothing,” he agrees, getting to his feet. That easy acceptance that we will never be again causes a stab of discomfort in my chest. “See you around, Lily.”

  My tears don't even wait until he is inside his dad's house to make their way to the surface. I angrily brush them away, determined not to give in to them this time. I should be empty of them by now with the amount I have shed for Grayson. It appears he still has the power to make me cry. It figures. He still has my heart too.

  I HAVEN'T SEEN HIM FOR a few days and yet it seems like it has been an eternity. Garrett and I have just finished a three-mile run at the high school track, walking a lap to steady our pulse rates. We do this just about every morning. My hair is damp with sweat and the strands that have fallen from my high ponytail are sticking to my face and neck. The morning air is cool, relieving my heated flesh, although there is nothing to be done about the pink tank top and yellow running shorts that are wet and clinging to me.

  “So…how would you feel about seeing Grayson and his girlfriend right about now?” Garrett asks, lifting his shirt to wipe sweat from his face.

  I watch him, frowning.

  He drops his shirt and raises his eyebrows meaningfully at me.

  “What are you talking about?” My eyes drift behind him, toward the opening in the fence.

  Grayson’s tall frame catches my attention, the rising sun creating a golden glow around him. Red athletic shorts grace his narrow hips, a dark blue tee shirt tight against his upper frame. His head is bent as he talks to Megan, his body turned sideways. She is smiling up at him, her hand on his arm. Her reddish-brown hair is pulled back in a messy bun, short black shorts show off her legs, and a form-fitting purple top emphasize her dips and curves. They look like they belong together.

  “We need to leave,” I whisper with dread, my feet heavy.

  “Yeah.” He slowly nods, placing his arm across my back and holding me to his side as we stride toward them. “Ready for this?” Garrett mumbles.

  Grayson’s eyes lift to us. He stiffens as he watches us approach, his expression going dark and then blank.

  “No,” I croak, my stomach in knots and the heart inside my chest pounding astoundingly fast. Grayson alone isn't so bad, but Grayson with Megan is somewhat traumatizing. Seeing them together is like a knife to the stomach; wounding and painful.

  “You’ll be fine. I’ll protect you from big bad Grayson and the super-hot chick with him. I'll even use excessive force against her if I must. I'm able to sacrifice like that,” he says, looking toward the pair blocking our exit.

  “Thanks,” I mutter dryly.

  “Grayson, how’s it going?” Garrett calls out, grinning widely.

  I shoot him a look, but he carefully keeps his face forward. Provoking Grayson is probably not the best idea and just his presence used to be able to do that. I hope that has changed, but the way he is watching us says it hasn’t.

  “Garrett.” The word is spoken coldly, a glacier of dislike forming around Grayson and freezing him immobile.

  “Hi, Lily!” Megan waves and turns a megawatt smile on Garrett. “Hello.”

  “Hey,” he replies, blinking as his eyes take in the full effect of her close up. “You’re Grayson’s girlfriend?”

  She laughs. “Yeah. For about six months now. I also help out with the band’s promotional stuff, bookings and interviews, and I work part-time as an interior designer.”

  What a go-getter. And they have been dating for half of a year. It must be fairly serious. A piece of me withers at that detail.

  She looks from Garrett to me, a hopeful look on her face. “Are you two dating?”

  “Who?”

  I try not to roll my eyes as I say hello to Grayson’s girlfriend. She is beautiful; it makes sense that Garrett would stare at her and mutter unintelligible things, but he doesn’t have to be so blatant about it.

  “Me and you.” I elbow him and he grunts.

  “Oh. No.” He rubs his side, giving me a scowl. “We’re just friends. Lily shot me down when I begged her to be more. I’m hanging in there, hoping she’ll change her mind one day.”

  Grayson snorts, but he isn’t looking at us.

  “Garrett just got engaged,” I announce, carefully watching Grayson. He keeps his head averted, but I notice him jerk almost imperceptibly.

  “Congratulations.” Megan glances at her boyfriend, a faint frown pulling her mouth down.

  “Thank you. Emily took pity on me the seventy-sixth time I asked and agreed.”

  She laughs, looking at me. “Does he always joke around like this?”

  “Yeah. He’s quite the kidder,” I answer shortly, wrapping my fingers around Garrett’s bicep and squeezing. “We have to go. Work and all.”

  This would be easier if she were mean, but Megan seems to be a nice woman, so I cannot justify my aversion to her. Grayson is allowed to have a nice girlfriend. Still, I don’t want to be around her any more than I have to.

  She flashes another smile. “All right. I’m going to take my suddenly mute boyfriend and get started on running. I’m sure we’ll see you again. You two have a good day. Nice meeting you, Garrett.” Megan grabs Grayson’s arm and tugs, waving at us as they walk away.

  “She's friendly,” Garrett says as we cross the street to our cars.

  I pause beside my car. “Yep.”

  “Do you hate her?”

  “No,” I mutter.

  “But you want to.” I angle a look at him. He grins and shrugs. “I know how it goes. You have to admit, she seems good for the jackass.”

  Shaking my head, I open the door. “Goodbye, Garrett.”

  I get inside the car, shutting the door as he yells, “See you tomorrow morning!”

  STONE PRATT MAKES A LASTING impression on me the instant he ducks out of Sam’s gray Chevrolet Cavalier and sprints toward me with his head down like he is a linebacker about to tackle me. I shriek and dart to the left and then the right.

  He stops inches from me. He is average height and build with gray eyes and brown hair. A deep purple tee shirt and faded jeans grace his body. Overall he is a pretty basic form of the male species. But there is depth in his gaze that makes me nervous. It means he is an observer. It means he will see right through me.

  “Hey.” He smirks at me. “Did I scare you?”

  “Did you mean to scare me?” I cross my arms, close to being irritated—more by the way he is studying me than his entrance. “Do you even know who I am? I could be some completely random stranger you’re rushing toward.”

  “You are some completely random stranger.” He winks at me, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

  I glance toward the car. Sam and Angela are watching us. They look at each other and say something that makes them laugh. Sam angles his head around Angela to better see me and shrugs like he is saying he warned me.

  Sighing, I place my hand in the crook between his elbow and forearm. “I'm ready.”

  He laughs. “You sound worried.”

  “Only slightly.”

  As we walk toward the car, he says, “But you won't forget me now, will you?”

  “It's doubtful.”

  “See? My plan worked. My name is Stone, by the way.”

  “Yep. Figured that one out on my own. I'm Lily.”

  He opens the car door for me and I scoot inside. The interior is spotless and smells like bubblegum. Going around to the other side, he gets in, shutting the door as he says, “I was hoping you were.”

  Sam introduces Angela to me and she offers a sweet smile. I decide he was right about her not being the
jealous type. Her hair is a wavy brown that frames her face and ends above her shoulders, her eyes large and brown. She has an innocence to her that has a calming effect on me. I can see why Sam would be drawn to her. She is what he was hoping I was and found I wasn't.

  “You're the girl who—” Stone begins and I immediately tense up, preparing myself for the connection to Grayson that people usually recognize me by. “—goes to the nursing home sometimes and hangs out with the residents, right?”

  My shoulders loosen and I smile at Stone. He just became my most favorite person I don't know, just by not mentioning my ex-boyfriend. “Yes. I am. How did you know?”

  Stone returns the smile, leaning across the seat. “My grandpa has a crush on you,” he whispers close to my ear.

  Angela turns around, nodding. “He does too. He's always talking about you. He especially likes the cookies you bring him.”

  Face heating up, I ask, “Who's your grandpa?”

  “George Williams,” Sam answers, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

  I laugh. “I love George! He's so sweet. It is my pleasure to visit with him. I wish I could get over there more often than I do.”

  “I have a solution to that,” Stone tells me, lifting one eyebrow.

  The action makes me think of Grayson and my smile falters. He always teased me because no matter how much I tried, I could never raise one eyebrow at a time. Both always lifted.

  “What's that?” I murmur, looking out the window at a blue sky, green grass, and sunshine. I focus on this until I am no longer arrowed by memories.

  “I'll pick you up tomorrow and we can go visit him together.”

  “That's a little forward,” Sam says as he parks the car at Boscobel Lanes.

  “I'm a forward kind of guy.”

  “Don't forget odd,” Angela says as she gets out of the car, laughing when her brother gives her a look.

  Stone waits for me to catch up to him, then slings his arm around my shoulders as we ascend the cement steps to the brown-sided building. He smells like peppermint and his arm is warm, heavy. I stiffen without meaning to. Either he doesn't notice, or he chooses to ignore it.