by Anthology
“I, uh…”
There was that look again. Disappointment. She put her hands into her coat pockets and sighed. “I see. I guess you’re not him. He’s brave. Articulate. If he was here, he’d tell me how much he loved me.” She examined me, waiting for something. Then, she took a step back. “I shouldn’t have come. I’d better go.”
I stood frozen as the girl of my dreams walked away.
The girl I’d spilled my guts to every Monday morning.
The girl that had rooted herself deep in my soul without saying a word.
She opened the door, and was gone.
Gone.
I swallowed and pushed my fingers through my hair.
What was I doing?
Why was I standing here?
I couldn’t let her get away. If I did, I’d be a coward, and she didn’t deserve that. She deserved someone extraordinary.
My brain finally woke from its stupor and screamed at me, “Move, you idiot!”
I dashed into my room, grabbed the letter from my desk, stuffed my feet into my boots, pulled on my coat, and ran out of my apartment to see Wendy stepping into the elevator.
“Wendy!” I called, running down the hallway. “Wendy, wait!”
I made it to the elevator in about three seconds and stuck my hand between the doors just as they were shutting. (I knew that running track would come in handy one day).
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, revealing a wide-eyed Wendy.
My Wendy.
I stepped inside and stood next to her.
“Here.” I presented her with a white envelope. Her Monday letter.
She eyed me, then plucked the envelope from my hands.
The doors closed, and the elevator started down to the lobby.
“I write you a letter every Monday.” There. It was out. I said it.
Heart, meet sleeve.
Her brows pressed together, and her mouth turned down. It was the same expression she’d had in my apartment. She was waiting for me to say something. But what?
“Why letters?” she asked.
I stared into Wendy’s beautiful eyes, and all of my fear left. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. The moment when I could tell her the words I’d been dreaming about.
“Because I love you.” My heart pounded in my chest like a fist. My stomach was so tight that I nearly doubled over.
What would she say? What would she do?
She let out a breath, and her cheeks turned pink. “I love you, too.”
She held my letter in front of her lips, and from the light in her eyes, I could see she was hiding a smile.
My entire body felt weightless. Like I was floating in a sea of ecstasy. The girl I loved just told me she loved me too. This had to be what heaven felt like. Intoxicating. Warm. Beautiful.
She was beautiful.
“Can I read it now?” she asked
I nodded too fast. “Yeah. Of course. I mean, it’s yours.”
Her eyes went to the elevator panel. “We’ll be downstairs soon.” She looked up at me with that expectant expression.
I bit my inner cheek. I was really coming to like that expression.
“My brothers and their girlfriends are waiting for me. I feel like I need more time.” A small huff of air left her lips. “With you.”
Before I realized what I was doing, I pressed the emergency stop button. The lights dimmed, and the elevator jerked to a stop.
“Oh my God, what did you do?” she asked.
Enclosed spaces freaked me out a little. Well, a lot. But I had to play this cool. I sat cross legged on the floor. “Giving you more time to read.”
She smiled then and tipped up her chin. I could see the happiness in her eyes. In that moment, I knew what my life’s mission was. I was born to make her happy.
“Are you always so…unpredictable?” she asked.
“Sometimes.” I smiled up at her. “When it comes to you.”
She sat down, facing me.
I held out my hand. “May I?”
She nodded and placed the envelope in my palm. “You may.”
And then I read her my letter. I hoped my words could be a mirror reflecting all of her best parts.
When I was done, she smiled at me. How could my entire life be complete with just one of her smiles?
“So, you are my secret admirer.”
I nodded. “Is that okay?”
“No. I don’t think so. I think the secret should be out.”
“Like, I can just admire you?”
“Maybe a little more than that. Come here.”
I leaned forward.
She did too.
Our lips met, and I swear the entire world turned upside down. Everything that was important was now meaningless. The only thing that mattered was this. Us.
I suddenly remembered I had something to ask her and I pulled away even though I didn’t want to. “Before I can’t think anymore, I have to ask you a question.”
“Yes, Peter?”
“Wendy Darling, will you choose me at the Winter Formal choosing ceremony?”
“Will I still get flowers and songs?”
I looked at her in horror. “You knew about that?”
She nodded, still smiling. “Your brothers ratted you out.”
“I’m going to kill them.”
“Later, babe. Much later.”
Our lips met again, and everything fell away.
It was just me and her.
The girl with the most beautiful soul in the world.
And the boy who was born to show her just how beautiful she was.
Connect with Seven
Thank you for reading Forever and Always: A St. Mary’s Academy Short Story by Seven Steps! To connect with Seven and learn more about her books and special offers, visit www.sevenstepsauthor.com.
The Friend Rules
Melanie Hooyenga
One
A flash of yellow cuts through the trees ahead of me. Topher whoops and hollers like a banshee as he hops his bike over roots and sideswipes branches. The rest of us ride in silence, staying focused on the trail. Out here in the middle of the forest, it’s easy to let the clear air calm my mind until I forget about everything except the blood pumping through my body. At least it would be if it weren’t for Topher.
Mica laughs from behind me. “He’s going to break something.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I reply.
Kurt calls from behind Mica, “Ten bucks says it’s a tire.”
A smile spreads over my face despite my heavy breathing. Kurt has an uncanny ability to predict what’s coming, but that doesn’t mean I won’t bet against him. “I call helmet.”
Mica laughs. “You’re horrible.”
“Not too late to get in,” Kurt says.
“Blood,” Mica says.
I burst out laughing. “That’s a given.” Another shout comes from farther ahead and I stand to pedal harder. As much as we joke about Topher crashing, I don’t actually want to see him get hurt.
The trail narrows into a series of switchbacks leading to our usual pit stop—the creek at the center of the forest. The leaves tickle my arms as I burst through the trees, the trail barely wide enough for me and my bike. Mica and Kurt are close behind me, breathing heavily. We always take turns leading and I get a rush knowing that even though I’m a girl, I make them work to keep up.
Kurt shouts between breaths. “Any… sign… of him?”
“Not yet,” I call over my shoulder.
“He’s probably swimming in the creek,” Mica says.
“He better have clothes on.” I shake my head at the memory of him skinny dipping in the creek last week. “One Topher peep show is enough.” He’d beat us to the creek and in crazy Topher logic, his bare backside was our reward. Kurt threatened to take off with Topher’s clothes so he’d have to ride back naked, and only gave them back after I practically dragged him into the creek. My cheeks flush at the memory. I�
�ve been one of the guys for so long they’ve forgotten I’m a girl, but lately something has changed.
A high-pitched shout echoes through the trees, snapping me back to reality. “Was that—”
“That was him,” Mica says, his voice tight.
We power down the trail, our tires so close we risk crashing into each other, and skid to a stop alongside the creek. Topher’s bike is halfway in the bushes, but he’s gone.
“Toph?” Mica calls.
A groan carries from beyond the trail.
Kurt stands near me. I reach for his arm to anchor myself and we jump apart like we’ve been shocked. We’ve wrestled and tackled and pushed and shoved more times than I can count, but that—that electricity thing that just zipped through me, and based on his reaction, did to him too—is new. But I can’t worry about that now.
Mica edges past Topher’s bike and crouches with his hands on his knees, studying something in the bushes. After several heart-stopping moments, he stands, smiling. “Jackpot.”
“A trifecta?” Kurt asks.
“Blood, tire, helmet.”
“Are you gonna just stare at me?” Topher whines from the bushes.
The three of us lock eyes, and without a word, move to Topher’s side and pick him up. Blood’s running down his arm and leg, and dirt’s smeared across his face beneath his cracked helmet.
“Hey!” He tries to squirm out of our grasp but Kurt and Mica’s arms are ridiculously strong—and mine aren’t too shabby either.
We step around the bikes and with one swing, toss him into the creek. Water splashes my legs and before I can register what’s happening, I’m flying through the air, Kurt’s arms locked around my waist. He twists before we hit the shallow water so instead of landing directly on the smooth rocks that cover the bottom, I land with an “oof.”
On him.
The cool water is a shock after riding, and I’m hyper-aware of the way the length of our bodies are pressed together, the way our limbs fit together like a puzzle. One of my long braids dangles in the water between us so I grab it and smack him in the chest.
He laughs, untangling his arm from my waist, and a tiny part of me yearns for him to put it back.
Friend Rule #1: No lusting after your friends.
Swallowing the unfamiliar emotions, I dunk his head under the water. I scramble over the wet rocks and am almost to dry land when his strong hand grips my ankle.
“Not so fast.” His voice is light, teasing, and my stomach does a weird flippy thing that unnerves me.
I pretend to struggle, but am quietly thrilled as he yanks me back to him. Instead of dunking me like I expect, he pulls me into a headlock and lightly smacks the top of my helmet. The boys started doing that years ago when they realized noogies weren’t as effective with a helmet in the way. His wet shirt is pressed against my face and while I’m enjoying the feel of his muscular arms, it’s time for retaliation. I dig my fingers into his side and he squirms away, laughing.
“That’s cheating!” His dark eyes dance in the light filtering through the trees, like he’s ready for more. But more what? Horsing around? Or something else?
I splash water in his face. I need him to stop looking at me like that, just for a second, so I can slow this sudden rush of I-don’t-know-what that I’m feeling. This is Kurt. He’s one of my best friends. We’re like brother and sister—or at least close cousins—and he’d be horrified if he knew what I was thinking.
His gaze drops to my knee and the smile slips from his face. “Did I do that?”
Blood trickles over my kneecap, running into the clear water swirling around us. I don’t remember hitting it but my mind was on other things.
He moves closer and scoops water over my knee. The blood washes away, revealing a tiny scrape. His fingers trail lightly over my knee, sending chills up my leg.
“Bully,” I tease, hoping he doesn’t notice that I can’t breathe.
“Sorry.” His voice is almost a whisper.
Topher’s standing in water up to his knees. The blood and mud have been washed away and he’s smirking at us. “You two about done over there?”
“You owe us each ten bucks,” Kurt says.
Topher kicks water at us. “That’s not how this works!”
Mica laughs at us from the shore, the only one of us who’s still dry. His arms are crossed over his chest and a curious expression dances on his face when our eyes meet. I shake my head and squeeze water from my braids. Whatever questions he’s got are no match for my own.
We climb out of the creek and while Mica helps Topher fix his tire, Kurt gives me a serious look. “I really am sorry.”
I smile up at him. At five foot nine I’m no slouch, but he’s a full head taller than me. Water drips from his dark hair beneath his helmet, running in rivulets down his face. I hold out my arms, turning them over. “Do you know how many scars I have from you boys?”
His gaze runs over my arms, then my legs, and stalls before returning to my eyes. It seems like he wants to say something, and for a moment I wonder if maybe this isn’t one-sided. Then his cocky grin is back and he wraps my braid around his finger and tugs. “You love it and you know it.”
The jumble of his words and the fact that he’s still touching me does a number on my pulse. I yank my braid from his hand, but our hands graze, making my stomach backflip. My eyes close and I take a deep breath.
This is Kurt.
One of my best friends.
He’s off limits.
When I open them, he’s watching me, an unreadable expression on his face. “You okay?”
Instead of answering him, I head toward Mica and Topher. “You boys about done?”
Topher looks up from his tire pump. “I’m not paying you.”
“Aww, Toph,” Kurt nudges Topher’s bike with his toe. “It’s only ten bucks.”
Mica clears his throat. “Each.”
Topher picks up his bike and sets it on the ground. “On one condition.” He looks at each of us. “I still get to lead.”
“Nope,” we all say.
Mica grabs his bike and swings a leg over the crossbar. “Last one back’s a rotten egg!”
A different excitement races through me—one I’m more familiar with. Adrenaline pushes me onto my bike, and in seconds I’m pedaling hard up the trail behind Mica. Kurt and Topher are right behind me. We’ve been riding these trails for years and there isn’t a switchback we don’t know, so racing is like a blood sport with rules—no intentionally hurting anyone, that sort of thing—and bragging rights for the winner.
The trees thicken, closing in on the trail, but right after the next turn it widens just enough that I should be able to squeeze past Mica.
Which he knows.
We make the turn, and he sticks to the middle of the path, his strong legs powering him over roots and rocks and underbrush. But my legs are strong too. I stand to pedal harder, my grip firm, all my focus on the foot of space to his left. He knows what I’m attempting and with a burst of speed, I rocket past him.
“Nice,” he says behind me.
“It’s not over yet,” Kurt shouts.
Twigs snap behind me, and seconds later Kurt’s by my side. “Not so fast, Alex.”
Hearing my name come out of his mouth almost makes me lose my balance. Almost. “Can’t keep up?” I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. Like me, he’s standing on his pedals, and as much as I’d like to think I can beat him, he’s almost twice my weight and all muscle.
He laughs, then he blows by me, leaving me with a breathtaking view of his backside.
Maybe being second isn’t all bad.
We wind through the forest, the stillness calming me in a way nothing else can—even as we battle for first. These woods, these boys, are my everything, and I’m terrified that it’s going to change. Friends date all the time, but it’s the after part that scares me.
Because there’s always an after.
Maybe the stars will align and he�
�ll like me back, but when it falls apart, it won’t be just us that’s over. It’ll mean the end of this, the four of us, and no amount of belly flips and racing hearts is worth that.
Mica whips past me, followed by Topher, and their shouts carry back to me.
“Oh, no you don’t!” I shake my head free of everything but the trail ahead, and for the next half hour we race up and down the hills like it’s the only thing that matters.
We tumble into the parking lot in a photo finish—Kurt, me, Mica, then Topher—and sit on the bumper of my car, guzzling water. Nothing compares to the all-body exhaustion after a hard ride, especially on a day as perfect as today. Fluffy clouds dot the blue sky, and a light breeze cools the sweat on my skin.
Another thing I like about hanging with guys? They don’t feel the need to fill every waking moment talking. They’re content to just sit here and—
“I think I might need stiches,” Topher announces.
I lean forward. “You sure, Toph?”
He lifts his leg, showing us a gash on his shin, and waits for us to weigh in.
Mica and I shrug—we’ve all had cuts like that—and Kurt lifts his own leg, which is still healing from a crash a few weeks ago. “Chicks dig scars.”
I quickly look away and gulp more water to stop my cheeks from flaming. It’s almost like he WANTS me to look at his legs. Not that I’m complaining…
Topher juts his chin at Mica. “Will you come with me?” For all his bluster, Topher is still an insecure little kid deep down. His uncertainty balances the non-stop energy rippling through him ninety percent of the day, and it’s what endears him to me.
Mica finishes toweling himself off and hoists his bike onto the rack on his SUV. “Let’s go.”
I linger on the bumper as they say goodbye and drive off, and Kurt doesn’t seem to be in a hurry either. He bumps his knee against mine, his gaze on my cut. “You don’t need stitches, do you?” The corner of his mouth curls up and I bend over, pretending to inspect my knee—anything to avoid looking into his eyes. The scratch is barely visible, the blood long gone.
