by Mariah Dietz
My eyes grew and my mind stopped, and began processing thoughts in a whole new direction. You were always too nice, always worrying about hurting someone’s feelings. I can be a dick and don’t have much remorse when I am, but as much as I wanted to tell her to get lost, you were right, my mom taught me better than that. I was about to lie to her when Jameson rescued me.
“Dude, there she is!” He motioned to the front of the house, clearly not paying any attention to Heather, and I was relieved to stop.
“Sorry, I have to go,” I briefly explained, putting my shot glass down and taking a couple of steps in the direction Jameson was headed. I wrapped my fingers halfway around his bicep to stop him from running over to you guys. You told me you knew he had a thing for Kendall the second he saw her in your backyard, but truly, I think you would be surprised to know just how far he was willing to go.
“What are you doing? Play it cool, let her come to you,” I instructed.
I didn’t know either of you then, but I remember watching Kendall and seeing the domineering look in her eye that was like a dare for people to not look at her. I can’t remember what she was wearing, or what her hair looked like, only that look. I barely noticed her because you were behind her, and just like you were able to do even back when you were a freshman, all of my thoughts stilled and focused on you. You were smiling at someone, and I remember the jealousy that rolled through me that I worked to ignore as I followed your attention to see who was on the receiving end. It was a chick I didn’t recognize, and even though I knew that should cause some sort of relief, it didn’t.
I soaked in your appearance as you spoke with her. Your eyes occasionally drifting in my direction made me wonder if you could feel my stare. It would have been hard to notice; there were too many sets of eyes on you at that point. It had been three years since I had seen you when I pulled up on my motorcycle, and although I never told you this, seeing you that day beside Mindi, nervous and distracted like you were the first day we met, made me regret ever leaving. I’d been struggling to fight a downpour of thoughts about you all week.
You were wearing those bright yellow jeans, the ones that called for my hands to rest on your ass … you know the pair. If anyone else tried wearing them I’d probably find them hideous, but you wore them like you didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. How wrong you were.
“That guy is totally hitting on her!”
My attention broke to Jameson in confusion. You hadn’t moved. You were still surrounded by the same girls that had convened around you when you stepped in. Then I saw your eyes scan over a group, stopping at Kendall, and remembered why Jameson had that scowl on his face.
It was Jimmy Carson. I’m sure you knew what she was doing, trying to bring Jameson over to her, but I didn’t know her game then. Instead, I told him, “That guy’s a douche. She won’t waste her time on him,” and slapped a hand to his shoulder. “Let’s check out who’s here. Believe me, she’ll come find you.” I swear, I thought she would. I’d seen her go out to her car each time Jameson was outside, returning his eager glances.
A couple of hours into the party I realized I was wrong. You’ll probably roll your brown eyes at me to know I thought it might encourage her to come over if I could find a girl to talk to Jameson. Men generally pick up their game if there’s competition when they’re truly interested. It took getting to know you for me to realize jealousy and competition don’t create a healthy love. It’s a natural emotion, but it’s not something that should ever be used as a pawn.
I was scanning the dance floor for a prospective girl when Brock walked up to me with a shit-faced grin.
“I heard some girls talking about riding the Max train tonight. I had to come find out if it was true!” He clasped my hand in his and slapped my back with the other. “I can’t believe these girls still think your shit don’t stink! Rub some of that bullshit mojo magic on me, player.” He took my hand and rubbed it on his chest, making me laugh even though I sincerely loathed the sentiment. I didn’t know at that time you were just as lost as me, but rather than hopping from one person to the next, hoping one would make you feel something different, something that made you want to commit to someone like I did, you did it by staying in the same relationship, waiting to feel something more.
“Gentlemen, it’s nice to see you both here.”
I turned to see Nathan Hudson approaching, and frowned. Even before I knew you hated him, I loathed the guy. He could be such a cocky bastard and I hadn’t consumed nearly enough alcohol to listen to him discuss who he planned to sleep with, and who he already had.
“Check it out. Baby Bosse is here.” You know I can get agitated over stupid things, but even before I loved you, I felt protective over you. I turned to gaze over my shoulder and caught sight of your bright yellow jeans, making it easy for me to follow you. “I’m so getting in her pants tonight.” You’ll be impressed to hear he said these words to me and I didn’t level him.
“What’s up, Baby Bosse? How are you doing, Ace?” You smiled at him. He could have told me the winning lottery numbers and I wouldn’t have known because I was so distracted. You see, you’ve always been more difficult than others for me to read. For starters, you’ve had a lot of practice placating people—I just wasn’t aware of how fluent you were. I don’t think even you were. And then there’s your mouth. The way your lips curve, and the different variances of your smile that are so slight and yet so significant. Maybe that’s what misled me. Maybe your eyes held a warning and I just never paid enough attention because your mouth was always my favorite distraction. I hated that you smiled at him. I hated it more that it made me question myself.
“It’s good.” Your words broke me from my thoughts and when my eyes left your mouth, I saw you looking at me. Your eyes didn’t hold mine; they never had on the few occasions we caught each other’s attention growing up. I had no idea what he’d asked you. Your words took several seconds to process as I tried to gain my footing with all the noise and commotion happening around us. God, do you remember how loud that place was?
“How are things going with Eric? Where’s he at tonight?” I strained to hear your reply over my ensuing thoughts and the commotion, because if I had been completely honest with myself, I’d mentioned this party to Jameson, hoping he’d insist on coming so I could see if you were here with him. I’m not sure what I would have done if he’d followed you through the door that night.
“Dude, did you see Claymore? She’s gotten hot! And her new rack, man, I want to bury my face in it!” Javier’s laugh was too loud as his scrawny arm slid around my shoulders. “Come on, you have to see this.”
I wasn’t about to move. I don’t know that I actually sensed your hatred for him at that point, or if it was still my own desperation to learn more about you, but there was no chance I was leaving. Javier’s greeting caused me to miss your damn response to the question that I’d been so anxious to hear, but your eyes flicked toward mine again before dancing away, and that slight move gave me way more hope than you’d think was possible.
“You want to get a drink or something? You used to promise me you would, and it still hasn’t happened,” Nathan continued his normal pursuit.
Javier giggled like a school girl, making more lewd comments that I probably should have been concerned over you hearing, but I blocked it all out. I had to know what your response was to Nathan.
“Maybe that’s a hint.” I wanted to high five Javier. I wanted to whoop. I wanted to look at you. Instead, I smiled at Javier because I couldn’t keep my fucking excitement in.
“Oh come on, you know you want this.” Even though you’d basically just rejected him, I remember feeling nervous all over again, and how my smile faltered with the realization that most chicks in school used to love Nathan Hudson. I kept my focus on Javier as he and Brock discussed something, but my ears were still trained on you.
“Do you want me to congratulate you on knowing how to do a sit up?” I was so relieved, bab
e. Yet I knew there were still several reasons to avoid you, namely, your boyfriend, Eric.
A loud scoff coming from Nathan had me turning to see what was going on. He was shaking his head at you and your lips were pursed, making your cheekbones more prominent. I don’t know how my eyes managed to finally crawl higher to see your eyes, but when they did I saw it. I saw the loathing. It surprised the hell out of me. In all of the times I’ve seen you, I’d never seen that expression, though the night of my birthday, your expression was so fractionally close, I couldn’t sleep for two nights. His head shook, as though he didn’t want to interpret the anger. “A sit up? Baby, do you know what I do to train my body to keep it in this kind of shape?”
“Come on, I showed you mine, now you show me yours.” He took another step closer to you and my muscles contracted. The familiar current of adrenaline coursed through me in preparation for him to touch you. Barbaric or not, babe, I wasn’t going to let it happen.
“Dude, and Lizette … did you see her titties tonight? She’s gained like the college forty rather than fifteen, but day-um, I think it all went to her titties!” Javier’s laughter should have been mellowing me out. I needed something to cut the focus and aggression I was feeling toward Nathan, but it didn’t. I wanted to punch him so he’d shut the hell up. “Are you hearing me, man? You have to see these things. They’re like, bam!” Javier’s hand hit my bicep as he held both of his palms out in front of him to emphasize the size of her chest.
I took a deep breath through my nose and clenched my hand in a fist to prevent my fingers from running through my hair. “Dude, what’s the deal here?” As much as I noticed you in high school, I spent ten times that trying to ignore and avoid you. I never wanted to know what guy you were dating, or who you were sleeping with.
“Are you hearing me?”
I know, I bet you can imagine my reaction. Through his inebriation and laughter, Javier read pretty damn quickly that I didn’t give a shit about Lizette’s titties.
“Hell, I don’t think so. She’s cool, though. I think I heard something a while back, but I don’t know …” I should have finished paying attention to him, but I was focused on what Nathan was saying to you.
“ ... you still think I’m a bad guy. That or you’re playing hard to get, which if that’s the case, I’ll play along.”
I caught Brock looking at me with curiosity as I took a step away from them, bringing me two steps closer to you before I saw you were looking at me. Your eyes were hard and cold, furrowed with the hint of confusion, and it stopped me.
“I’m not interested in you, Nate. I never have been.” Hearing you call him Nate caused another irrational pang of frustration to run through me. “We’d never work because you don’t understand what personal space is. And let’s face it, I’ve heard enough of your reviews to know that your open garage houses a very compact car.” You’d probably hate to hear that you caused so many jokes at his expense from that single line, but you opened the flood gates of one-liners, Ace.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with all of me, baby.” I wanted to shake my head. Nathan’s reply had to have been one of the worst pickup lines ever.
“It’s a good thing we’ll never have to find out.”
“You need to talk to me, Ace, trust me. You may even find that you like me.” You didn’t stop or turn around at Nathan’s words. Instead, you weaved through the crowds of people with your face tilted down. Nathan shook his head in exasperation as he faced us again. “She’s got some fire in those eyes. Can you imagine what she’s like between the sheets?”
I went to my full height, my shoulders squaring and my spine becoming rigid. It took everything inside of me not to hit him. I slammed my shoulder against his as I moved past him, forgetting about Javier and Brock.
I convinced myself I was following you to make sure you were alright as I slid through a group of people, successfully avoiding someone calling my name. The fact that I was starting to lie to myself a lot over that past week was a parting thought as I felt the warm breeze across my face.
Your yellow pants stood out amongst the night-darkened yard, and for some ridiculous reason I began walking over to you. I didn’t know what I was going to say. My irritation was growing with each step, as I reminded myself you weren’t mine to chase.
“You know you’re a game to him.” I could punch myself now for saying those words to you. You should have. But I leaned against the picnic table you sat on feeling temporarily impressed with my quick words, trying to act more casual than I felt by keeping my eyes focused on your shoes. They were sexy as hell, and I really hated that I was starting to be honest with myself.
“He needs to find a new opponent, because it’s not going to happen.” The frustration still resided on your face with the creasing of your forehead and brightness in your eyes, and for some godforsaken reason, I needed to know where it was coming from more than I needed to breathe.
I clenched my jaw to stop the question from leaving my mouth. I didn’t want to play your knight in shining armor. You didn’t need to be saved, your eyes made that very clear as you avoided looking at me.
“It might be easier just to sleep with him and get it over with.” You likely know now that those words were said out of some selfish need to guard myself from you, but after I said it, you looked like I’d slapped you as your eyes focused on mine with anger.
“I appreciate your advice, and you taking the time to tell me that you think so highly of me.” It was then that I saw the tiniest glimpse of your vulnerabilities. Your fingers were restless, and though your eyes were filled with frustration, they were lined with doubt.
I tried to feign calmness even though I irrationally wanted to yell at you. I know that wasn’t fair. You were fucking with my head. The entire week I’d been paying too much attention to your driveway, passing the upstairs window that looked over your backyard, and peeking around my bedroom window shade to see if yours ever opened. I wanted you to be a bitch to me so I could try to stop thinking about you. I think I already knew those days were over. They had ended when I was sixteen. Living in Alaska had only served as a partial reprieve.
“I’m not trying to be offensive,” I avoided looking at you as I threw down the gauntlet. “He likes you. He seems like your type.” My shoulders shrugged again in an attempt to show indifference, knowing what I’d just done and feeling both pissed and relieved over the fact.
“My type?” The tone of your voice and the volume had people turning around to look at us, but I ignored them.
“You know, pretty boy, likes to talk about himself and how great he is. Spends a decent amount of his day on his hair and picking out his clothes ...”
“That’s what you think my type is?” Your frustration turned to rage in a second. “Isn’t he your friend? It’s good to know it’s not just people you don’t know that you have no problem insulting.”
“Fuck no.” I’m sure by the way your eyes had rounded with challenge, you saw my own annoyance peak at the mere idea of you thinking that, making me continue with, “I was there, he came to say hello, and then you showed up.”
I watched your eyes slide from mine and your head drop back to look at the sky. I thought you were too disgusted to look at me any longer. I was freaking the fuck out inside.
My lungs didn’t expand until you said, “I don’t have a type.”
“He and Eric seem pretty similar. Plus, I went to high school with you.”
“Nate isn’t my type. He makes my skin crawl.”
“Usually girls say that after they’ve slept with him.” I don’t know why I said that. Honest to God it was like I couldn’t stop, and I never meant them in accusation, but just in thought. I don’t think I even realized I’d said the words out loud until your eyes whipped to mine faster than it seemed possible.
You stared at me for a long moment as I tried to recount exactly what my words had been so I could try to find a way of explaining them. “Who in the hell do you think you
are?” You began yelling at that point, likely drawing more attention to us, but I continued to not care. I knew to be fair to both of us, I had to allow you to remain pissed off at me. It would make it easier for me to avoid you, by you avoiding me is what I told myself as I fought the apology that wanted to come out in fifteen different sorry-ass ways.
“You don’t know anything about me! You think because some asshole pays attention to me that I should just spread my legs? That might be your game, but it sure as hell isn’t mine.”
That time it was me that felt like I’d been slapped in the face. You believed all the rumors from high school about me sleeping with all of those girls. Of course you had. Everyone did. I still wanted to apologize because even though you’d just dealt me an insult that you had no idea stung more than most others, you didn’t deserve the insinuation I’d delivered. Warring with my desire to apologize was the yearning to yell at you, and then an even stronger need to kiss you. The chaos happening to my emotions made my head feel like it was going to explode. I sometimes wonder if that’s how you feel when you start over analyzing all the shit you do.
My eyes fell to the ground because I couldn’t stare at you for another second without doing one of the three options my mind had settled on, knowing that if I did any of them, I’d regret it. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as you stood up and left. You didn’t turn to look back at me as you slid back into the house.
I had a half a mind to go track down Nathan Hudson and pummel him. If he hadn’t spoken to you, none of that shit would have happened! Then again, I wouldn’t have known what I did, which I was still working to understand.
“Miller, what’s up man?” I turned to see Joel and Carver, and tried to calm myself down.
“You alright, dude?” Joel asked as they stopped in front of me.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” My hand brushed across my hair a few times, feeling the slight residue of some sculpting hair shit I’d been using to try and stop the habit.
