Falling Into Love

by TC Rybicki

  I was careful taking the book from her. It was still an expensive investment. Sydney had a chill or something. She was shivering. I rubbed my finger across her forearm and marveled at the fine hairs standing at attention. She broke out in goosebumps all over her arms, maybe other places, but I could only see her arms. “Please, Syd.”

  “I can’t. I’m afraid.”

  “Of me? No way. You’ve tried to fight me like three times already.”

  “Dane. This is different. It’s not a joke. I write a lot of poems. If I show you, it’ll be like letting you look inside me, and that’s too personal. Also, you might not like what you see, and I kinda like having you as a new friend.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Let me think about it for a few days and find one that might not be horrible or embarrassing.”

  I should accept her answer. I should do a lot of things, but instead, I reached over her. If she wrote a lot, her poetry journal must be close by. Sydney had a cluttered nightstand next to her. I’d love to organize it for her. I doubt she needed so much next to her bed. There was a drawer, but did I dare open it and see what a teenage girl kept close to her bed? There were many books and a couple of spiral notebooks. That wasn’t what I was after. Sydney would hide her private writings. I knew her already.

  She saw it in my eyes and instantly put up both arms to block me, but I was going for it. Sydney was no match for my strength. I was going to get what I wanted, but I was gentle and thank God for the pillows in between us. I had to press her against the mattress to get what I wanted. She put up a good fight but never screamed. Sydney cared enough about me that she wasn’t going to call her Gram. Our struggle on the bed sent my body into a tizzy. We twisted and wrestled on top of the covers, but I wore her down. She gave up after a full three heavenly minutes. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her flushed cheeks, kiss those pouty lips, and rip these pillows away so she’d finally know how I felt about her. Instead, I reached further. My hand went in between the mattress and box spring until it hit a hard object. Eureka. I knew it. She was the type of girl to hide stuff under her mattress.

  I had the journal, and I immediately got off Sydney. That position was asking for trouble.

  “You, ass. Give me that back.”

  “Give me a poem, Sydney. I asked nicely.”

  “No, you didn’t. You broke in my room and practically assaulted me to steal my book. How’d you know where to find it, anyway?”

  “Assault? Stop. You know I’d never hurt you. It was a lucky guess. Pretty please. I’m begging now which is something I never do.”

  She snatched the book. “Fine. I give up. Let me see what I have. I need to go to sleep.”

  “What, no Facetime with your lover?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Jerk.”

  “Diva.”

  Her expression suddenly changed. Diva was too much. I apologized. “I’m sorry. We should make a list of off-limit names. Diva and skinny, right? So far anything you’ve called me is acceptable even if inaccurate.”

  “No, it’s not that, but skinny is definitely a no-no.”

  “You aren’t going to read a poem to me, are you?”

  “I’m thinking about something unrelated. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s embarrassing, but the truth is all my guy friends back home were Grant’s buddies. I never could ask, or they’d run to him and tattle. I need a non-biased opinion.”

  “Ask away. I think you like my honesty so far.”

  “Yes, you are like the most honest scoundrel I’ve ever come across.”

  “Scoundrel? That might be the first word for my list.”

  “It fits. I’m not giving it up. Okay, since you inadvertently brought it up, I’m about to spill a heavily guarded secret. Grant is not my lover.”

  Sydney covered her face as soon as the words escaped her sweet lips. It wasn’t a good moment to jump up on her mattress and do a victory dance no matter how bad I craved it. She was obviously distressed.

  “Okay, well, you’re still fairly young, and even by today’s standards, virginity isn’t unheard of. Oh wait, that’s what you meant or am jumping the gun?”

  “Yes, it’s what I meant. I’ve dated him for two years, and I keep putting it off. Grant gets frustrated with me, but I’m not ready. The thing is, everyone thinks we’re sleeping together. Even Mom. She put me on the pill as soon as I started dating him. She constantly checked to see if I was taking them. I denied being sexually active, and she said, ‘yeah right.’ All my friends and Grant’s friends think we are too. I kind of have a reputation you could say. I guess I give in enough that he can talk a little smack to his boys. Guys have big mouths. I just wondered, do you think a guy like Grant will tire of me as soon as he gets to college? You were there not so long ago.”

  “First off, if Grant tires of a woman like you, he is an absolute moron, but I already suspect that’s the case. Back up though. What do you mean ‘give in enough?’”

  “Forget it. I’ve said enough embarrassing stuff for one night.”

  “No, I don’t know unless you spell it out. You’re not having sex with Grant because you’re not ready, but he finds the need to disclose stuff about you, so his friends can congratulate him. Honest to God, Syd. He sounds like a giant asshole. Why are you with him? I forget.”

  “Because I care about him and he cares about me. He is trying to be understanding, but sometimes he makes me do stuff, that’s what I meant. Fool around to keep him satisfied. That’s what guys his age expect and need. I’ve read a lot about it.”

  I needed to punch something. Grant came to mind even though I hadn’t seen his face. I wanted to deck him. He made Sydney feel bad about herself. This is one reason why she had insecurities that she wasn’t good enough when she clearly was. She wasn’t ready for sex, so he made her get him off. That’s what I was hearing. What a couple did in private was their business, but the terminology Sydney used led me to believe it wasn’t exactly a mutual decision.

  I had pushed and flirted a little too hard, but I would never dream of making her do anything she wasn’t ready for. I respected her too much. This guy had been with her over two years and had zero respect for her.

  “I’m sorry. This was too personal. You don’t want to hear about teen angst. Forget it.”

  “No, I’m glad you trusted me. Sydney, he shouldn’t make you do anything. I hate that happened to you. You deserve so much better.”

  “I’m not abnormal. I have desires. I get carried away too, but I feel like most of the stuff I’ve done has been out of guilt. I want to stand up to him and set some guidelines now that I’m an adult and we’ll be dealing with a long-distance relationship, but that probably means I’ll lose him completely.”

  “Fantastic. He needs to go. Bye, Grant.” I kept the rest of the reasons why this was good for both of us silent.

  “He isn’t terrible. He helped a lot when Mom and Dad were crumbling. He got me out of the house and distracted me. His family is nice, more stable than mine. I needed a refuge.”

  “Sounds great. He gave you a safe space and in return you gave him a handy or whatever. Don’t tell me, I’d rather not know.”

  Sydney’s silence proved I was right. Grant made her believe he was sensitive to her needs and was concerned about her family problems. He got favors in return for his hospitality and I was disgusted at the thought of how many times this beautiful soul had been used.

  Of course, I’d been lusting after her since I met her. I wasn’t that noble. I had the wants and desires a normal man did, but I was waiting for the moment when we equally craved the same things. That was the best part. Manipulation and coercion would never be a part of our relationship.

  “I should go. Do you have the nails? I think you should nail the window first chance you get. I have no right coming in here without being invited.”

  “No, wait. You’re invited, maybe text first, so I’m not indece
nt, but this is kinda fun. I promised a poem. Remind me not to talk about Grant to you. My problems are not your problems. I’ll figure it out.”

  “You didn’t want to read me your poetry. I’m going to respect that now. You made me realize a few things about myself.”

  Sydney placed her cool hand over mine. “No, stay. I realized something too. I’ve always wanted to share this but was too afraid. I need to try this, or these journals will stay under my mattress forever. I’ll be like the Princess and the Pea, only with books.”

  “You admitted you’re a princess. I love it.”

  “I admit nothing. Let me find a poem. Short and sweet for starters. I need to build up my bravery.”

  “Yes, it can be three words. I’ll take anything.”

  Sydney started thumbing through her pages. I watched the way her nose crinkled, and her brow furrowed. She was in deep thought. The pages kept turning. She was losing her nerve. Maybe she wasn’t ready after all. That was okay. I was just about to tell her we could do it another night. If she wasn’t nailing the window shut and admitted she liked my visits, I could wait. I’d be back another time if she didn’t want lock me out.

  Sydney flipped her pages for like the twentieth time when a stray piece of paper fell onto the bed. It was a few scribbled words. It didn’t seem long. She didn’t notice I picked it up.

  My eyes already scanned the page. I didn’t want to stop reading, but I asked permission before I read further. “This seems nice. Let’s read this one together.”

  She sucked in air loudly. “I forgot I stuck that in my book. No, not that one. It’s super old. I wasn’t any good then. Let me have it.”

  “Okay, are you sure? I read some words. It’s good. Please, could you read it?”

  “Dane.”

  “What? You wanted to start somewhere. I accidentally saw already, please finish.”

  I handed the torn page that looked like a to-do list on one side and a work of art on the opposite side.

  Sydney held up the paper, she looked back and forth at her words and then back at me.

  “Okay, I will, but remember, it’s something I scribble down ages ago. It’s practically gibberish.”

  “Gibberish- got it.”

  “I don’t always title poems, but this one is called New Vision, so dumb. I’ll change it eventually or just toss it in the garbage.” Sydney started the poem, and I held my breath at the beauty of her voice reading her unique creation.

  Repulsive.

  Hideous.

  Different.

  I want to turn my head.

  Instead, I look once more.

  They are like nothing my own eyes have ever seen.

  Hypnotizing.

  Mesmerizing.

  Dangerous.

  I say it matters not. Stop being so curious. They are insignificant. The man behind them is insincere.

  I’ve almost convinced myself. He brushes against my skin, opens and closes the window to his soul and touches mine in the process.

  Once again, I’m lost. I’m frozen in time.

  Unmoved.

  Consumed.

  His.

  Sydney folded the paper in half. I looked down and saw a list of items I was familiar with. It was practically everything I loaded in my truck the first day I met her. She could lie and tell me the poem was old, but it was fresh. She wrote it on the back of her list from Ms. Josie. I closed her book with the poem inside. We stared like the couple she wrote about. She knew that I knew, but neither of us acknowledged the truth. Sydney could lie with her mouth about the origin of that poem. Her eyes told me the truth. She wrote a poem about meeting me in the bookstore. Her words told me everything I needed to know. She wanted to dislike me, distrust me and dismiss me, but she couldn’t because the reality was I’d made an impression. Sydney was going to keep insisting she had a boyfriend. He didn’t deserve her. I promised to be more respectful until she told me to stop holding back and kiss her senseless like we both wanted. We just met, and we weren’t together. How come I felt like we were?

  Sydney Hagel was already mine and love-at-first sight wasn’t real, but we just experienced it and were too afraid to admit it.

  I needed to get the hell out of that bedroom. “That was lovely, Sydney. You have true talent. I can’t wait to hear what you have for me next time.”

  Gram wasn’t going to accept me coming to breakfast late. I knew she listened for me to come home. I peeked down the hall at her room before climbing the stairs. Her lamp shut off as soon as I touched my foot on the first creaky wooden step. Staying out late with Dane wasn’t fair to Gram. She talked tough, but she worried about me. Mom hurt her many times throughout the years; maybe she saw a second chance with me living there. I didn’t want to disappoint her. Despite my upbringing and some of my pampered practices, she and I always were kindred spirits. We were raised completely different, had opposite personalities, but we also had similarities. Dane made mention of it the first time he spent time with us together. I smiled when he made the comparison. I wish I could be strong like Gram. I had a long way to get to her level of strength and determination.

  My weaknesses reminded me of my major blunder the night before. Scratch that. I made several blunders. Dane knew I allowed him to get to me. It was way worse than being charmed by his flirty nature and good looks. I told him about Stud. Why did I have to name his truck and why did I admit the name? My breath hitched so many times at dinner he must think I have a respiratory problem. Telling him about Grant, my lacking sex life and the strange arrangement was the single most embarrassing confession I’d ever made to another human being. Even my best friend Ally didn’t know this stuff.

  I only thought blurting out my virginity situation was the worst mistake of the evening until I topped it. I meant to throw out the poem. Why didn’t I trash it? I thought I did. I kept it. That had to be a subconscious thing. Mom was getting her brain picked at her spa retreat. I probably needed a shrink as well, but Gram would never shell out money for that. I met Dane indirectly in the bookstore and I disliked him from the start, kinda. Gram’s meds weren’t ready right away. They had to call about one prescription, so I had a seat, dug out a pen and started to write the first words that came into my mind. It was a common practice since my mind was rarely idle. I wrote about Dane’s uniquely different eyes.

  I finished the poem while I waited for the men to load the truck. I lied. I didn’t dislike Dane. I was stunned I met a man like that in a rural bookstore. I convinced myself I halfway made up how he looked, and he wasn’t exactly that spectacular. I wrote about his eyes strictly for the prose and the fact I’d never see that particular man again. It didn’t mean anything until Dane found it, begged me to read it and then the poem I wrote in haste meant everything. I told him it was old. He knew I was lying. That was obvious. The poem was about him. I questioned whether he thought that last line… ‘his’ meant his eyes or that the author felt she was his.

  Staying out late with Dane wasn’t fair to more people than Gram. Pretty sure, it wasn’t fair to Dane or me either. And then there was Grant. Oh yeah, I had to stop forgetting about Grant.

  “Sydney Marlene!” Gram broke the spell yelling up the staircase. “Chop, chop. Time’s a wasting. Get a move on.”

  I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Gram was going to fuss at me, but I had to jump in my shower. I caught my reflection before climbing into the rising the steam. Gram’s water went freezing to scalding in ten seconds flat. “Don’t lie, Sydney.”

  Sometimes I talked to myself like there were two of us, one that made sense and the other one was the real me. I started it a long time ago when I was a little girl when Mom and Dad fought rather loudly. It helped calm me down and rationalize my fears. “You meant his eyes. You are unavailable.”

  The mirror fogged over before I can answer myself. I knew a little about Dane in two short days. I couldn’t possibly be his. He was a full-grown man working in real estate with goals and ambition. He traveled the
world and had a master’s degree. That almost blew my mind. I was correct that he was a bit of a scoundrel. Dane would cheat at poker and never blink an eye. He had the power to hurt my Gram with one slip of the tongue. He wasn’t fully trustworthy, but I confided in him.

  Grant.

  Gah! Why did I have to remind myself of Grant throughout the day? When you’re in love, you don’t exactly forget you’re in love. We started saying it beginning of senior year. “Love you, you too, same, love you more,” and other variations of loving sentiments.

  I had to think if I’d ever flat out said I am in love with you Grant. I hadn’t said it so bluntly and neither had he. In the hot spray of the shower, I had a realization. I better not have said that to Grant because I knew for certain, it would be a lie and dammit to hell another truth came to me. I didn’t mean Dane’s eyes aka his eyes. I meant his. I was his. He owned me at first glance.

  “I said move,” Nina practically shoved me over. Her voice trailed off. I swear she called me something that sounded like a skank, but what had I done to deserve that? I was better than her… prettier, smarter, faster, but it wasn’t like I said so.

  Ugh. Some people. I did my best to ignore her and her unfortunate face. She dropped a box on the table where I was labeling honey jars.

  “Watch out. There’s glass in there.”

  “I know that. It’s also packed tight. I didn’t break any.”

  “You better not or Gram will take it out of your pay.”

  “You honestly can’t go ten minutes without reminding us your grandmother owns the place, can you? Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be at boarding school?”

  “I never went to boarding school. My school was private, and it’s also summertime. I graduated.”

  “No doubt. I’m sure your family paid the school extra to make sure that happened. You know, funny story is my dad went to school with Ms. Josie’s children. He said he thought Martin had boys. Where’d you come from? Let me guess; you’re one of those scandalous bastard kids that rich people hide?” She paused with this wicked smirk hoping she succeeded to get to me. She only wanted to push my buttons, but Nina failed. I wasn’t giving her the satisfaction. I kept labeling. “I’m getting warmer. Your cheeks are turning red.”