When you’re outside, nothing is for certain. The wind may make the trees blow a different way than before, people will make different choices, giving you multiple different shots and angles at which to shoot them from. It’s unknown and most of all, exciting.
For the past four years the unknown has been my constant.
So why I feel the need to act like the school welcoming committee and invite Christian to lunch, thereby throwing my constant into upheaval, is beyond me, but there was just something in the way he mouthed the word date in English class, and me needing to get a shot of him for the paper that screamed at me to do it.
So Emery the one woman welcoming committee I became. And to be honest, it wasn’t all that bad.
It’s actually kind of amazing what you can learn about someone when you step away from the way they look through a lens and actually speak to them. Ask them things about themselves and take in what they’ve said.
By the end of it, I may have even enjoyed myself a little.
But if you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll have to kill you.
*****
“So you’ve been through two classes and survived. How do you feel?” I jump in and ask when we’ve crossed the one way driving lane to the grass on the other side and made ourselves at home.
“Not sure yet. Still deciding.”
“I take it you weren’t the one that wanted to move?”
“You got it.”
“So what was it that made Christian Cayne leave and come all the way here? Scandalous divorce? House burned down? Running from the law? If I get a choice, I’m going with the last one. I mean you did show up in the back of a cruiser today.”
“Passenger seat, actually, but neither of those.”
I know that my lack of socialization with people, often times choosing a camera over human interaction, is severely lacking, but I was pretty sure with the laugh in my voice and the smile on my face, it was a given that I was joking. The way he looks out and away and his answers seem scripted, make me think he took me too seriously.
“You do know I was kidding, right? I mean, I don’t actually think any of those things are real.”
This gets his attention. He turns back offering up the barest trace of a smile.
“I know, it’s just, I don’t like to talk about why we’re really here.”
“Okay, well, you don’t have to. I was just making conversation. Sorry I suck at it. Usually my best friend is here to buffer.”
“My mom died.” He blurts out. “It took my dad four years to realize that living in the same house she died in was too much, but he finally got a clue.”
Yeah, I could definitely use a little Johnny intervention right about now. I have no idea what to do with this. The only experience I’ve got with losing a parent is my dad taking off when my mom was pregnant. It’s not like my expertise can help here.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. No biggie. I just figured since you’re trying to make conversation it might help if I did it back.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” He replies, focusing his attention on his backpack and the paper bag lunch he pulls out a few seconds later.
Slipping his sandwich out of the bag, he takes a bite and goes back to surveying the area around us, his eyes taking everything in until they finally fall back on me right at the exact moment I take a sip of soda and he swallows the bite of sandwich.
“I really need to start making my own lunch. I’m pretty sure I just ate sand paper.”
Tossing it down onto the paper bag, he leans back at the same moment I lean forward, handing him my container of yogurt. It’s not much, but at least it’s not sand paper.
“Here, take this. I’m not gonna eat it anyway. You can have my dairy.”
Bringing his hand forward he slips it around the bottom of the container, the surge from earlier presenting itself again as his fingers lightly brush over mine.
“But what are you going to do without your dairy?”
“Wither away to nothing, I suppose.” Catching the side of his face lift in a grin, I mentally pat myself on the back.
Maybe I don’t need Johnny after all.
“Can’t have that, so here.” He says, grabbing a small clear bag and handing it over. The contents of which, I’ve never been more excited to see.
Chocolate chip cookies.
My absolute favorite.
Snatching the bag out of his hand and pulling one from the bag, I immediately take a bite and moan as the taste hits my tongue.
“Wow…someone really likes cookies.”
Blushing what feels like a tomato shade of red, I lower my head and he laughs.
“Let me guess. Your mom’s real big on the whole eating healthy thing?”
“Something like that.” I admit. “Nothing extreme, but she says eating healthy will help me perform better, so I’ve got something from every food group. I don’t have the heart to tell her that I trash half of it.”
“Not hungry?”
“Nah, I’m starving half the time, but I get sidetracked when I’m out here. Soda is the only way I got her to concede and usually, because I’m so busy taking pictures, it’s the only thing I end up having.”
“At least your soda doesn’t taste like my sandwich.”
“Pass it over.” I say and when he just stares, I motion again with my hands. “It can’t be that bad. Pass it over.”
This time he does as I say, handing over the sandwich. Taking a bite and letting the taste of the meat on the inside hit me as I chew, I immediately reach into my bag and grab out one of the napkins my mom packed with my lunch, turning to the side as I spit it out and crumple it up.
“Told you.” He laughs and after running my tongue over my teeth a few times in an attempt to rid myself of the awful taste, I do too.
“That was…I don’t even know what that was.”
“Nasty, Emery. It was nasty. It’s okay to admit it.”
“Did he drop it on the floor or something? It was crunchy in parts and kind of rubbery too.”
“My dad isn’t known for his culinary skills.”
“Obviously. Wow, here.” I lift the banana and the carrot chunks and hand them over. “You earned this.”
Taking the offering from my hand, this time in a way that makes our hands not touch, he lays it down on top of his paper bag and begins eating.
“You do this often?” I ask as he pops a carrot into his mouth, starts chewing and closes his eyes, releasing a quiet moan of his own as he savors it.
“Do what?”
“Share food with a stranger.”
“Can’t say I do, but you’re not a stranger anymore. I mean, you’re Emery.”
Try as I might not to be affected by the soft tone of his voice as he says my name, it happens anyway as I feel heat rising in my face again, just like before.
“Emery! My favorite picture taker! You didn’t wait for me like you promised.” The familiar voice of my best friend Johnny interrupts as he comes around the side of me and plops himself down on the grass between us.
“You weren’t at your locker like you promised either. I walked by twice.”
“Hey man,” he responds, completely ignoring me and turning his attention to Christian, his eyebrows raising a few times as he checks him out. “JD.”
“Short for Jack Daniels?” Christian answers back, causing Johnny to laugh before he shakes his head.
“Don’t I wish?”
“What my ignorant best friend has completely forgotten to mention is, it’s short for Johnny D.”
“The D being what?”
“Davenport, but if you recognize the name at all, for the love of god, pretend you don’t.” Johnny responds before I’ve gotten the chance to, earning another half-smile from Christian.
“I have no idea who that is or what it’s supposed to mean, but nice to meet you.”
“Em,” Johnny turns to me. “Are you hearing this shit?”
> “Sitting right here, JD. Pretty sure I am.”
“Dude,” he starts, focusing his attention back on Christian as he leans over and slaps him not so delicately on the back. “First rule of Greenville. You’re not supposed to be that damn polite. Ruins the action you might get from it for the rest of us.”
“Johnny, shut up.”
I know my best friend is just being his normal annoying self, but I’m not in the mood to hear him tell the first person in forever to use actual manners, to stop doing it.
“Johnny, this is Christian. He’s new, so play nice.”
“Nice? Really? Since when?”
Leaning over and elbowing him in the side, Christian laughing as Johnny grips his side dramatically and winces, I make sure I’m close enough for him to hear before I speak again.
“Since now.” I hiss and moving back, I smile before reaching down into the bag of deliciousness and devouring another cookie.
Recovering nicely, my best friend moves on as if the last five minutes didn’t happen and picks up where I left off in learning about the mysterious new guy.
“So, Chris, what kind of shit did you get into at your old school that made you end up here?”
“Jo—” I start as his hand chooses that exact moment to slam itself over my mouth.
“It’s okay, Em. Christian gets it, don’t ya?”
Judging by the baffled look on his face, I’m pretty sure the last thing Christian gets is anything that just came out of my friend’s mouth, but despite it, he plays along.
“Got pissed at a few guys and decided to burn the gym down.”
“That’s hardcore, brother. What else you got?”
“Please don’t answer that.” I beg Christian, and whether it’s the pleading look on my face or lack of something else to say, he listens and goes back to eating.
“What kind of stuff did you do at your old school?” I ask, but before he gets the chance to answer I hold up a finger in the air. “Wait! Let me guess. You were a sports guy. Football, soccer, maybe both, and a little bit of hockey. Am I right?”
“Wrong.”
“Em, you’re slipping girl. He’s got musician written all over him. Bass player maybe, but most likely a lead singer.”
“Ding, ding, ding! Give the man a prize.”
It’s not very often I’m stunned, but in this case I am. I’ve known Johnny a long time. He’s one of those guys that talks and hangs with pretty much everyone, sometimes even crossing enemy lines and talking to the ‘cool kids’, but never once has he ever nailed someone spot on before.
“Lead singer, really?”
“Bass player, actually, but I figure since he said it first, he deserves the prize.”
“Which would be what exactly?”
“I was thinking you could share one of the cookies.”
“Uh-uh. No way. No cookie sharing here. He can get his own cookies.”
And to prove my point, I take the bag, tighten it around the top and slip it down into my shirt, a place Johnny thought for a while he would get the chance to go, but soon found out he never would.
“That’s a bit extreme, don’t ya think?” Christian asks and Johnny snorts.
“Yeah, you’re new alright. Emery’s middle name is extreme.” Turning to me with a Cheshire grin, he lets his eyes fall to my chest before lifting them to meet my now more than a little annoyed eyes.
Pervert.
“One of these days, you won’t be able to use your bra to hide things from me.”
“In your dreams maybe.”
“Every—single—night.” Johnny says to which Christian chuckles softly.
Turning his attention to my backpack, he slides his hand in and when he brings it out and it’s empty, he turns and levels me with a pout.
“Where’s my lunch?”
“Already been eaten, Hoover Vac. Looks like you’re gonna have to eat your own today.”
“That’s cold, Ems. You know you’re supposed to save your lunches for me.”
“And like I told you last time, my lunches want to see other people.”
This is one of the reasons me and Johnny work as best friends. It’s just easy with him, the banter back and forth so random, yet natural that I’m not sure where I’d be without it. Sometimes though, like right now, people that don’t totally understand us get ignored and confused in the process.
“Are you two always like this?” Christian cuts in the second I realize we’d completely tuned him out.
“Pretty much.”
“Nice.”
“So you were the bass player in a band?” I ask, attempting to swerve the conversation in a different direction. Preferably one that has nothing to do with the cookies that I’m pretty sure were sent from Heaven just for me.
“Yeah. I mean it wasn’t anything major, but a few of the guys from class used to hang out after we were done for the day and eventually we just made it our thing. It’s probably the one thing I miss with the move.”
“How long did you guys play together?”
“Two and a half years. We actually scored a few paying gigs around town before I left.”
“Nice, man. If you’re ever looking to start it up again, I can hook you up with a few people. In fact, I think you’d have a real good time with this guitar player I know.”
Johnny eyeballs me as he says it, but if Christian catches on he doesn’t say anything and just like before, I shove into my friend, the move obviously pushing him over his Emery limit for the day because with a smack to the back of my hair, he starts getting to his feet.
“Not to steal food and bail, but I’ve got someplace I need to be.” Turning in Christian’s direction again, he smiles before moving over and sticking his fist out, a move that earns him a fist bump and a nod before he turns and starts walking away.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he calls back and even though it’s not well known to the new guy, it sure as hell has meaning to me.
There’s not a damn thing in the world that my best friend wouldn’t do or try, which means he’s basically just given me permission to do whatever I want.
And despite wanting to spend my senior year focused on classes, my GPA and the newspaper, I’m starting to think with the way I can’t seem to stop staring at Christian when he laughs and the way my heart picks up when he smiles, I’m not as against trying something as I thought.
Damn my best friend to hell.
*****
Taking the chance and saying something to Mr. Yorke about what I learned at lunch was a risk. I could have alienated a guy that seemed pretty great, or he could have been cool with it and maybe even thanked me.
What I wasn’t expecting was for the guy with the eyes that could melt glaciers to wanna partner up with me and then say what he did.
The line that even though the class has been over for hours and I’m now safely in the comfort of my own bedroom away from him, I can’t stop replaying over in my head.
“Let’s make beautiful music together, Emery Carmichael.”
I am NOT that girl.
You know the one I’m talking about.
The girl who sweet lines work on. The one that lets every guy that talks to her for longer than five minutes get to her.
Truth is, I’m the girl on the outside that’s pointing and snickering loudly at all the stupid girls that do let it happen.
So what is it about Christian Cayne that makes me switch lanes until I’m the girl I’m normally laughing at?
We’ve been over the eyes. The pools of light water that with just one look seem to be able to penetrate even the biggest and toughest built walls. Then there’s the face that lifts into a smile so natural he puts all of the smiles I’ve caught on camera since I was young enough to point and shoot, to shame.
Eww. I haven’t had a feeling like this since I was the awkward ten year old with braces that seemed to trip over air experiencing Ryan Gosling in The Notebook for the first time.
This cannot be
happening to me right now.
Christian is from what I can see, a nice guy and I refuse to have a crush on him.
Crushes ruin things. You start feeling all of these things that you have to keep buried because you have no idea if the other person feels the same, so everything just turns incredibly awkward until what you thought you had with the person, or what in my case you might be building, ends up breaking apart and you’re passing each other in the hall and there’s not even the faintest trace of a look back.
That can’t happen here.
Besides, I’ve got all the friend I need in Johnny. He’s like having a dozen friends combined into one, and considering the awkward moment of our own we had when he admitted that he liked me sophomore year, it’s a miracle the curse of the crush didn’t get us too.
I’ve gotta get back to the way things were before I got to school today. Focus on my classes and taking the pictures I need for Jordan. Write this day and Christian off as the random event it was and focus on what matters.
Graduating and moving on from Greenville.
Only that’s a little hard to do when you give the guy you’re planning on avoiding your phone number and right at the moment you make the decision, he throws you a curve ball in the form of a text and proves just how hard your little plan is going to be.
Hey. My dad’s gotta leave early tomorrow morning, so I was thinking maybe we could get together and start working on our music project. Let me know. :)
I hate myself so much right now, because despite knowing I don’t have the time or the energy for this, beautiful music with Christian never sounded so good.
Chapter Three
Christian
I had a feeling when I moved from a small town into a big city that there was gonna be a lot of things to adjust to, but public transportation has to be the worst.
After getting on and moving all the way to the back the way the driver instructed, I still managed to get myself sandwiched between a guy with a gland problem and one that apparently robbed a liquor store and drank it before getting on.
The Space In Between Page 3
