I stared at my own blank paper, rolling thoughts around in my head but mostly trying to not focus on following Abby around the room. I couldn’t help it; I noticed an attractive male student had approached the instructor stand and was quietly whispering to Abby. She was nodding, speaking softly, and turning to the computer. She pointed at a few things on the screen.
I doodled for a minute, not paying attention to our time limit. I felt my throat go dry with a bit of jealousy as I realized students could stand next to her, talk with her, and she wouldn’t treat them like strangers as she did with me.
Then again, what was last week? We certainly weren’t strangers. We fell into our old friendship effortlessly, but had I ruined it with that kiss? I wasn’t sure. Probably.
Furious at myself for thinking of her that way—we weren’t together, and we never had been, even in high school—I threw myself into discussing the economics and politics we’d talked about today into my short assignment.
Abby made a final announcement as the class began to finish: “Next week we begin our full discussion on Civil War America, including my favorite, President Abraham Lincoln himself.”
A few people groaned.
“What?” Abby smiled brazenly, looking at everyone but me. “He was an outdoors man, self-made, and highly intelligent. He’s a great role model. Now, get back to your writing!” One by one, students excused themselves and handed their papers in, silently exiting the classroom. I marveled at how quiet the room was. This was nothing like high school.
I almost chuckled. I knew above everyone else how much she never shut up about Lincoln in high school. Outdoors man, huh? That gave me an idea. I turned back to my paper.
After a few minutes, it was just down to Sam and I. Writing had been a strongpoint for me in school, and I quickly approached the end of my page with my mechanical pencil. It was silly to impress her, I knew, but after that kiss last week, I felt I had something I needed to make up for. Maybe an entire page with three paragraphs would change her mind.
I wasn’t really sure how, nor did I get the response I even half expected.
Sam turned his in first, nodding to her and waving goodbye. Then it was just me, and I slid my paper to her, one side full and the other side with scribbles of anchors and globes and those weird Bubble Guppy things Zoey liked down half the page. She looked at it and frowned, then tucked it into a yellow folder.
“Have a good day, Joseph,” she said without looking at me, as she tried to push past.
I let her go. I wasn’t going to obstruct her and make her mad, after all. But I knew how to stop her in her tracks right then and there.
“Hey, Abby,” I called after her. “Ferris wheel.”
She froze in the doorway, her back to me, her bag over one shoulder and her left arm out to support herself on the door frame. I rushed up and tucked a folded slip of paper into her hand, pushed passed her, and fled to my truck with my head held high.
I knew she’d read it, but I didn’t have to look back to double check.
If you remember the Ferris wheel, meet me at the corner of our last hang out at four this afternoon. Bring Zoey. Wear better shoes.
I’d seen the look in her eyes last week when our lips touched.
I hoped I wasn’t wrong.
“Why are we meeting in the middle of the wilderness?” Abby asked me from behind her rolled-down window as I approached the door of her car. I could see Zoey babbling in the back seat and playing with a toy.
“The road is literally right there,” I said, leaning on the window frame. “Did you wear better shoes?” I was disappointed to see she was dressed in a tight pullover zipped to her neck, but from here I could see her legs were bare. It had warmed up, but not that much. Was she wearing shorts?
She pushed the door open, making me stumble back. I frowned at her, then laughed. “What are we doing here?” She glared at me, motioning to the wild wilderness in front of us that arched over the hill and into a sparsely forested area.
“I have a plan. Just get Zoey out, and hang on a second.” I trotted to my truck, parked a few feet in front of her. I pulled my latest purchase out of the truck bed and held up the contraption.
Abby was busy fetching Zoey from the back, and as she bent over I saw she was indeed wearing sneakers, black shorts, and a purple zip-up. Her legs were…I licked my lips and tried to swallow. Thick, rounded, and well. Nice.
She turned around, saving me from my awkward stare, with Zoey hoisted on her hip. She kicked the door shut behind her and threw her keys into her other hand, locking it with a flip of her keychain. “What the hell is that?” She pointed to the harness in my hand.
“Oh, this? Just something I thought would help.” I threw it over my shoulder and buckled it over my chest. It wasn’t as heavy as I thought it would be, surprisingly.
She blinked at me. “It’s a baby carrier?”
“Come on, I’ll kneel down. Zoey will fit fine.” I got to one knee to demonstrate.
“Daddy!” Zoey suddenly blurted, holding her hands out toward me.
Abby turned fifty shades of red and bit down hard on her lip.
“No, Zoey,” I said firmly, because I knew Abby was two seconds from getting back in the car and heading back down the hill. I pointed to myself. “Uncle Jo-Jo.”
“Don’t start that,” Abby started to say, but I held up my hand.
“Jo-Jo,” I repeated.
“Jo!” Zoey squealed, still holding her hands out.
I was still kneeling, so I silently pleaded with Abby to go along with it.
She sighed, but still looked annoyed. Damn it, I wasn’t trying hard enough.
“Alright,” she said finally. “But if she doesn’t fit, I’m going home. It’s cold out here, anyway.”
“It won’t be once we start the hike.”
“Hike? Good Lord, look at me. I don’t hike.”
Believe me, I was looking at her. I hadn’t stopped. “You do today. I’ll go slow. Haha, no pun intended.”
“Oh, Jesus,” she breathed, shaking her head at my innuendo as she hoisted Zoey into the harness strapped to my back. I’d guessed her weight perfectly and she fit snugly.
As if to let me know, Zoey promptly hit me on the top of my head. “Go!” she squealed.
“It’s not too heavy?” Abby eyed me as I stood and adjusted the straps.
“No way, haven’t you ever marched in the blazing sun with a fifty-pound pack on your back?”
“Um, no.”
“Well, she’s way lighter, trust me.”
Abby smiled. Slightly.
Boom! First success. Now, if I could get her to smile all the way, my job today would be done. I hooked my thumbs under the straps and tossed her a bottle of water from the truck bed. “Let’s go!”
“Go!” Zoey yelled again, her sweet baby-laugh filling the quiet afternoon air.
Abby sighed again but followed me as we set off.
I wasn’t sure what to talk about at first. After Friday, things seemed so awkward, and I didn’t know what she liked anymore. I wasn’t very good at this talking shit, I never had been. I decided to stick with something that annoyed both of us; class today.
“That guy in class was a jackass,” I blurted, “Jake or whatever.”
“Hmm,” Abby said, picking her way around some brush that had grown over the trail. “I’ve had students like him before. It isn’t anything new. Their first day they are always difficult.”
“Well, he’s an adult, you’d think he’d be more respectful,” I observed. Zoey was busy tugging on my ears now, and I gently swatted her away.
Abby actually laughed. “No, that doesn’t always matter.”
I thought about the plethora of immature idiots I served in the Army with. “I guess you’re right. So why are you teaching college? I thought you wanted to be a preschool teacher or something.”
She jogged to keep up with me now, so I slowed my pace. She was breathing hard already, and we were only fifty feet fr
om our cars. I slowed way, way down to match her steps. She took a swig of water before answering. “Something changed in college, I guess. I’m not really sure when.” She took a heaving breath. “I realized I didn’t want to be stuck with colors and alphabets all day. Preschoolers don’t really know who Lincoln is,” she chuckled, breathless.
“No, I guess not,” I laughed.
“Can we stop?” she huffed.
“We’ve barely made it, but okay,” I said, and motioned to a large rock by the trail. We stopped, and she took a seat, leaning forward and blew out a huge breath.
She looked up at me. “I told you I don’t hike.”
“Well, it’s not easy when you’re…”
Her eyes flashed at me, and she jumped to her feet. “Fat? Was that what you were going to say, Joey?” Her hand balled around the water bottle, crunching the plastic nearly flat.
I backed up a step. “I’m not used to it,” I finished. “I would never use the F word. I’m not an idiot. Besides, you aren’t, you know, that.”
“Bullshit,” she expelled and continued up the path. “I’ll show you who’s not fat, asshole.”
“Wow, you speak to those students with that mouth?” I jogged to keep up with her suddenly quick pace.
Ahead of me, she kicked a pile of gravel and rocks to the side of the path, startling a group of starlings out of a thistle patch. We were entering the forest path now that wound to the top of the hill and back down before it connected to the original path that led to the parking lot.
“Birdy!” Zoey yelled and clapped her hands. “Birdy, birdy, birdy!”
Abby turned and walked backward, nearly jogging, and waved at us. Even about twenty feet away, I could see her face was bright red, and she was breathing hard. She was fully in the woods now, and the shadow from the trees obscured her face as she shouted at us.
“See? I can hike. I can—”
“Abby!” I called, but too late she didn’t see the huge root poking through the middle of the path.
She tumbled hard, falling on her ass, landing with an oomph! Hitting the ground hard, she flung onto her back.
“Mama!” Zoey called. “Mama okay?”
I rushed forward and bent over as much as I dared with Zoey strapped to my back. “Are you okay?” I was worried she had injured herself.
Abby was laughing. Between her brief jog and her laughter, she wheezed and mildly struggled for breath, holding her stomach and interrupting her chuckles with a moan.
I gave her my hand and helped her up.
“Are you hurt?” I asked again.
“Mommy?” Even I could hear the worry in Zoey’s voice.
Abby reached up and grabbed Zoey’s hand. “Mommy’s fine,” she said, a laugh still rumbling through her. “I guess I shouldn’t show off, huh?”
I was still looking her over, checking for scratches, cuts, or God forbid, a rolled ankle or something. I’d carry her to the car if I had to, but I wasn’t sure I could manage it.
“I’m fine!” she insisted.
“You’ve got a little cut above your ankle,” I pointed out.
She looked and then shrugged. “I have band-aids in Zoey’s bag back in the car.”
“You carry band aids?”
“And Tylenol. I’m super mom.”
“Yeah, you are.”
Silence dropped between us, until Zoey dug her little heels into my side. “Go!” she yelped again. “Birdy!”
I looked at Abby. “Do you wanna go back to the car?”
She thought about it but shook her head. “I kinda like being out here, communing with nature. It beats sitting home and drinking wine.”
“You drink wine?”
“Jesus, Harrison, stop asking questions.” She turned and walked down the trail, looking down this time in front of her.
I laughed behind her. “Lead on, Professor.”
She turned sharply and glared. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why?”
“Someone might hear us, one, you don’t know who is out here. Two, just don’t. And no more ‘Abster’ or ‘Abbikins,’ okay? I’m not seventeen.” She threw back her shoulders and continued up the trail.
No, you most definitely aren’t, I thought as I watched her walk away. I wasn’t objecting, not in the least. From here, it was a good view.
As the sun began to set over the trees, basking us in deeper shadows, I realized that Zoey, lulled by my steps, must have fallen asleep. We rounded the corner of the trail, and Abby pointed out footprints of some wild animal that wound off the trail. I stopped to show her the poison ivy, literally the only plant I could recognize, growing some feet away.
“Are those blackberries?” she quipped suddenly and pulled my hand to yank me behind her.
We stopped beside the trail and stared at the small, green berries. “Not yet, they aren’t,” I told her.
“Oh,” she groaned. “That’s sad. I really love blackberries.”
“I know you do,” I said. “You had that God-awful air freshener in your car forever in high school.”
“You remember that?” she asked, throwing me a quizzical look. “Junior year, right?”
“Right.” I smiled at her.
Abby reached up and rubbed Zoey’s little head, which had dropped onto my shoulder. “Thank God she’s asleep. She needed a nap,” she murmured. She looked toward the fading sun, spraying brilliant orange and red light all around us. “I have grading to do. We should get back.”
As we approached the cars, I realized Abby still hadn’t let go of my hand. I squeezed, and she squeezed back.
When Zoey was slowly lowered into her car seat and buckled, still snoring softly, Abby turned to me, then glanced at her phone. “Well, that was a fun two hours of near death,” she said quietly.
She’d let go of my hand, leaving it cold, when she had to put Zoey in the car. I was sorry she had to. “Yeah, we should do this again.”
Her frequent smile disappeared then. “I don’t know, Joey. Dinner, one thing, hiking, another, but public? We need to be careful.”
“We can go somewhere students don’t go. The arcade, maybe?”
A shadow passed over her face. “Joey, we can’t.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
She bit her lip, and I knew what she wanted to say now. But how could she resist me? She’d never had been able to. Today was no exception.
“Okay. Saturday, maybe. But early, so it’s not busy.”
“It’s a date,” I smiled.
“No, it’s not,” she said, but smiled as she slid into her front seat and shut the door, rolling down the window.
“Hey, Abby?” I yelled above the roar of her engine. “I meant what I said, you’re absolutely not, ya know, the F word.”
“Yes, I am,” she grinned up at me, “but if you don’t care, then neither do I.”
I’d be a fool to admit it used to bother me, but after seeing her legs in those shorts; it was the last thing on my mind. Why had I let it bother me back in high school? I thought about it as I followed her in my truck, until our destinations made us split ways at the next stop light. I’d been a complete idiot back then. Abby wasn’t thin by any stretch, but to me, she was absolutely gorgeous.
I patted the window frame and backed up so she could pull out.
“And Joey?” she called.
“Yeah?”
“I named Zoey after you.”
She backed the car expertly and turned onto the highway.
After me? What did she mean?
There was no way Zoey was mine, of course. We had never even come close to, well, that. But I hadn’t missed the way Zoey sounded like Joey. After all this time, did this mean she never forgot about me? That she kept her promise?
The entire way home, the way she laughed rang in my head.
That, and some very inappropriate thoughts. I didn’t bother to dismiss them.
Chapter 6
Abby Girl: I’m nervous.
Jo-Jo: A
bout what?
Abby Girl: Prom, you idiot. What do you think?
Jo-Jo: *laughs* Why are you nervous
Abby Girl: Everyone has grand plans, and there’s just us. The losers who couldn’t find a date. Going stag.
Jo-Jo: But we are going together
Abby Girl: But not *together* together
Jo-Jo: Sure, okay. So why nervous? It’s just me.
Abby Girl: You’re gonna make me do something lame like go to the arcade again
Jo-Jo: Well, if you want to go to the arcade, we can.
Abby Girl: Shush, you
Jo-Jo: It’ll be fun. You’ll see.
Abby Girl: I hope so
Jo-Jo: I promise I won’t kiss you at the door. I’ll punch you in the arm instead
Abby Girl: You better not do either
Jo-Jo: Are you sure about that?
I must be absolutely insane. I pulled up to the bowling alley on the outskirts of town. It was eleven in the morning, and there were only three other cars in the parking lot, one of them Joey’s red truck. The week had been a bit of hell—grading, meetings, student conferences. It was nothing compared to the end of the term, but this one was off to a busy start.
Why had I agreed to meet Joey for the second time in the space of a week? Third, I reminded myself silently, though I didn’t count when Zoey had been sick. That was just nice of him. It didn’t count, right? But that kiss—it kept me up at night this week. Why had he kissed me? He had tried once in high school, but then never again. Off handedly, he had told me once he didn’t date fat girls, and I had been so annoyed I hit him. He had laughed it off, but he had no idea how much he hurt me. And I was a silly girl—it was the friend zone punishment for him. I was an idiot. So, what had changed since he came back?
I wasn’t stupid. I saw how he looked at me. It wasn’t the same hungry lust that Evan had, either. It was something different. Adoration, maybe? I couldn’t quite identify it. Of course, I never had much time for men, nor they for me. After high school I found they didn’t really have patience for a strong woman who didn’t have time for their bullshit.
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