Lucky 13

by Rachael Brownell

  “In about five minutes.”

  “Where?” I ask, motioning to the crowd of people around us.

  “Outside the thrift store. We should head that direction,” Libby says. She’s shaking her hips back and forth, singing the words of the country song the band is covering. I nudge her and she starts walking backwards, watching the concert as I guide us through the crowd.

  Once the stage is out of view, Libby turns and falls in stride with me. “Thanks for coming with me.”

  “Of course,” I reply, shivering slightly. I forgot about changing my clothes after the game and wish that I had taken Libby’s suggestion and changed in the car. At this point, I could care less if anyone had seen me. At least I would be warm.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to change?”

  “I do want to change. Can we go inside somewhere?”

  Libby grabs my hand and pulls me down the sidewalk. After stopping at her car, we continue to the thrift store at a rapid pace. Chester is waiting outside the store, watching for us. He’s alone.

  “Where’s your friend?” Libby asks as she digs around in her purse for something.

  “He’s on his way,” Chester replies, directing his statement toward me.

  “Cool. We’re going to slip inside for a minute. Be right back.” Libby unlocks a random door that’s next to the thrift store and pulls me through it.

  “Where are we?” I ask as Libby starts up the flight of stairs in front of us.

  “My parents own the building and the loft upstairs is vacant right now. You can change up there.”

  Taking the steps two at a time, I follow Libby, my bag bouncing against my butt as I climb. She unlocks another door and hits a switch, illuminating a wide-open room with high ceilings. To my right is a kitchen that flows into what I assume is a living room. Straight ahead is a half wall, blocking off a large corner, and to the right of that is a door. Libby points to it, telling me to change.

  As soon as I get in the bathroom, I quickly shed my dress and pull on my jeans and sweatshirt. Thankfully, I warm up instantly. When I come back out, Libby is leaning against the wall, waiting for me.

  “Ready?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. Your date is here.”

  Date. One single word. It causes my breathing to become erratic, my heart to speed up, and my nerves to go on high alert. My father will kill me if he finds out.

  Then I remember Grant’s face as he removed his helmet tonight. I remember the apologetic look in his eyes. Grant. That’s who I should be talking to tonight, spending time with so I can figure out where we stand. I want my first date to be with Grant, not some random stranger that I’m not interested in.

  “Let’s go, Mads. They’re waiting.” Libby is waiting in the open doorway for me to join her. I don’t have much of a choice. I promised her, and I don’t break my promises.

  Chester is smiling at us as we exit the building. The friend I’m supposed to be hanging out with tonight has his back to me, but I recognize him instantly. I’m frozen in place, my feet unwilling to carry me the ten feet to where they’re standing. It’s not nerves or fear but rather an uncertainty that won’t allow me to move.

  As Grant turns around, our eyes meet and my heart sinks. His forced smile fades and is replaced with a look of surprise. He wasn’t expecting me. Chester, on the other hand, is eating this up. He knew. Somehow he knew that we knew each other.

  Playing it off like he’s innocent, Chester introduces me to Grant. I play along and shake Grant’s hand, electricity coursing through my veins as our hands touch. I want to be mad at him, yell at him for lying to me, but I can’t. I lied too. I hid the truth from him as much as he did from me. We’re both guilty and should be punished for our actions. This doesn’t feel like a punishment. It’s more like a reward.

  Chester and Libby take off down the sidewalk, walking as close to each other as they can without actually touching. It won’t be long before they’re hand in hand, unable to ignore their attraction to any longer.

  Grant takes my hand in his and pulls me along behind them. I slip my hand out of his and in the pocket of my sweatshirt to avoid him grabbing it again. That doesn’t stop him from finding a way to touch me. He slides his arm around my waist, and I don’t have the strength to fight him. I like the way his arm feels around me. I’m enjoying the butterflies dancing in my stomach and the way my heart is beating to a song that seems to be its own.

  “We need to talk,” Grant finally whispers in my ear as we approach the concert.

  “Sure.”

  “How about now?”

  “Later.”

  For a moment I think he’s going to let me get away with one word answers. I should have known better.

  “Madison and I are going to grab something to drink,” he shouts to Chester. “Do you guys want anything?”

  “Something hot,” Libby replies.

  Chester raises an eyebrow at Grant and then looks to me. “Same.”

  Grant guides me through the crowd, his hand on the small of my back. I try to walk faster in an attempt to avoid his touch, a touch that has my body on fire, but it’s impossible with the amount of people surrounding us.

  When the crowd clears, I move out of his reach and lean against the closest building. Grant stands in front of me, watching me. He inches closer and closer until there’s no room between us.

  “Can we talk now?” Grant asks, leaning in as close as he can.

  “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For lying to you. I didn’t want you to know that I was still in high school because I thought you were in college. I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

  Grant chuckles. He actually freaking chuckles at me. I remove my hands from my sweatshirt and swat him on his chest. His rock hard, vibrating chest.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because you took the words right out of my mouth. I didn’t want you to know I was in high school either.”

  “But why? You’re a superstar,” I ask jokingly.

  “I’m not a superstar. I’m just good at throwing a football. Hopefully, it’ll be my ticket out of here.”

  “To where?”

  “College. I’m aiming for a scholarship. There were a couple of scouts at the game today. I played well, thankfully. The announcers don’t help, though. They never call me by my name.”

  “I’m sure the scouts know who you are if they were there. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

  Grant places his hands on the building behind me, one of either side of my head. I stare at his chest, afraid to look in his eyes. I see him remove his left hand from the wall and place it under my chin, lifting my eyes to his. “I want to talk more about this, but not now.”

  “Okay,” I squeak out.

  He pushes himself upright and off the wall, grabs my hand and pulls us back toward the concert, stopping for four steaming cups of hot chocolate before continuing back to where we left Chester and Libby. We find them holding hands, Libby’s head resting on Chester’s shoulder, as they sway back and forth to the beat of the music.

  I tap Libby on the shoulder to get her attention. She perks up and looks back at me, a happy glow radiating from her face that rivals my own. Taking the cups of hot chocolate I hand her, she hands one to Chester, sips hers slowly and then returns to resting her head. Chester is eyeballing Grant over his shoulder. I feel him step up behind me and wrap his free hand around my waist. I rest my head back against his chest and close my eyes, letting the music take me away.

  Chapter 9

  A perfect ending to the perfect night. Grant offered to walk me home after the concert, much to the dismay of Libby who wanted to drive me so she could tell me all about Chester. I promised her that I would call her in the morning, hoping she would get the message and thankfully she did.

  Hand in hand, Grant and I walked in silence down the backroads of New Bern to my house. The g
ravel crunching under our feet echoed off the trees that were about to start losing their leaves. As we approached my driveway, Grant stopped and pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

  “We should say goodnight here,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Why?”

  “So that I can kiss you properly without any prying eyes.”

  I inhale sharply. I’ve kissed one other boy in my life. Last summer, on a dare from a friend. It was horrible. I didn’t know what I was doing and didn’t enjoy it. He made sure to let everyone know how horrible of a kisser I was, too. That was one of the few times I was excited when my father announced that we were going to move again.

  I look over Grant’s shoulder to see my father’s vehicle parked in the driveway. He’s home and potentially watching for me. If he sees me out here with a boy, I’m grounded. If he catches me kissing a boy, I might as well plan on being a hermit until I graduate. This is a bad idea. An amazingly awesome yet bad idea.

  “Grant,” I start to say when his lips touch mine and all thoughts of my father and punishment are lost.

  His touch is soft and gentle. His tongue slides across my lips and they part, welcoming him as if I know what I’m doing. When our tongues meet I let out a small groan and feel Grant smile against my mouth.

  Grant’s hands slide down my back and squeeze my butt before lifting me off the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist and feel us begin to move. My back is against a tree moments later and Grant’s pressing his body against mine, pinning me to the tree.

  His hands move to run through my hair and hold my head in place as he devours my mouth. When I feel his thumb caress my scar, the same way he did the other day, I suck in a breath. Grant must sense my uneasiness because he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, slowly lowering me to the ground but keeping me pinned to the tree.

  “I’m sorry.” Grant’s breathing is ragged, matching mine.

  “For what?”

  “I wasn’t planning on more than a good night kiss. But when our lips met …” His voice trails off. He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. I felt the same thing.

  “I understand. Completely.” I look to the house and notice the kitchen light has been turned on. “I have to get inside. Thank you, Grant.”

  “For what?”

  “For walking me home. For forgiving me for not telling you the truth about being in high school. For the most amazing kiss I’ve ever had.”

  “You’re welcome. For all of it. Call me tomorrow?”

  “I’ll try. There are a few things I have to take care of at the Foundation before I can do anything.” I push off the tree and walk past Grant, placing my hand on his chest and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good night.”

  “Night,” he replies as I make my way up the driveway. When I reach the front porch, I turn around to wave, but he’s gone.

  With a smile on my face and my heart still beating rapidly, I push the front door open. I don’t see him right away, but when I do, my heart goes still in my chest and my smile fades away.

  “Madison. Who was that boy?” The anger in his voice doesn’t surprise me.

  “His name is Grant.” No use lying to him. It’ll only make the situation worse.

  “I thought you understood the rules. You are not allowed to date until you are eighteen. According to my calendar, you still have three weeks and one day.”

  Always so literal. “I understand the rules. He was nice enough to walk me home.”

  “You’re not fooling anyone, Madison. I saw the look on your face when you walked through that door. I saw the way he was looking at you when you walked up the driveway. Something is going on between the two of you and I’m not going to allow it.”

  I’m not sure what it is, but something inside me breaks. My anger bubbles to the surface and I let my father know exactly how I feel about his rules and where he can shove them. He listens without saying a word. I expect him to cut me off, shut down the rant that I’m on, but he doesn’t. He lets me get it all out and then he calmly walks away. He makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs but I resist the urge.

  I head the other direction, up the stairs and to my room, slamming the door behind me. Still upset, I pace the length of my room, clenching and unclenching my fists and blowing my bangs out of my face every few seconds with a big huff.

  He’s so unreasonable. I’m twenty-two days away from being old enough to date, according to him. Most of my friends throughout the years have been on dates. Some as young as fourteen or fifteen. I wasn’t even interested in boys back then. He should be thankful for that.

  I always thought that it was a military thing, something that was ingrained in him to be strict with me about everything in life. Not all military parents are like that, though. At least not the ones I’ve met. My friend Sue’s father worked side by side with my father while we were in Hawaii and she went out all the time. He didn’t seem to have an issue with it, according to her, as long as she was honest with him and told her who she was going out with, where she was going, and what time she would be home. If she was late, then she was in trouble.

  That’s how I wish my father was. More flexible. I’d be more than willing to share information with him if he’d be willing to release me from the chains he has tethered around my ankles.

  I text Libby to let her know I got home safely before I jump in bed for the night. I don’t get an immediate response so I shut my light off and close my eyes. I try to push my anger down deep and relax but I can’t. I end up tossing and turning most of the night, watching as the hours tick by. When the morning sun starts to shine brightly through my window, I give up and crawl out of bed. I’m going to need a lot of coffee to get through today.

  My father is home this morning. Somewhere. I don’t go in search of him when I realize his car is in the driveway. Instead, I take my coffee back to my room with me while I get myself ready. I can’t be in the same house as him right now. He didn’t ground me last night, so I’m going to take advantage of that and slip out before he changes his mind.

  After calling Lucy and explaining that I won’t be in, I text Grant, asking if he’d like to hang out with me this afternoon. I get a reply immediately.

  Who is this?

  The chick you picked up downtown last night.

  I don’t remember any chick. I remember this girl with a beautiful smile and lips that tasted like cherries. Sorry. You must have the wrong number.

  My bad. I guess I’ll head to town and look for a new guy to make out with then. Have a nice day.

  You too.

  I wait for him to text me back that he’s joking, that he really wants to meet up with me, but he doesn’t. There’s still no text from Grant after I get out of the shower. I’m starting to think that I may actually have the wrong number—if it weren’t for the cherry lip gloss comment. Only Grant would know that.

  I shake it off, assuming that maybe he got pulled away and couldn’t text me back. I decide to walk into town instead of drive, so that I don’t have to fight for a place to park. My first stop is the thrift store. Libby has to work this afternoon. I want to tell her all about Grant, and I’m sure she has plenty to tell me about Chester that I won’t want to know.

  As I walk past the park, I stare at the gazebo, my thought going to Grandma. I want to tell her about last night, too. About Grant, and the amazing kiss we shared. I also want to tell her about my father and his latest insufferable comments and rules. Knowing Libby is waiting, I decide to stop and talk to Grandma on my way home.

  Libby squeals as soon as she spots me, waving like a lunatic for me to come to the counter. There are at least six people in line waiting to be cashed out. Although I only see Libby working and feel bad for her, it doesn’t seem to bother her at all. She’s talking to the lady in line as she checks her out, a smile on her face the entire time she works.

  Deciding to help her out, I slip behind the counter and start folding the clothes Libby is pil
ing up and sliding them into bags. She smiles at me over her shoulder as she continues her conversation with the customer, cashes her out, and moves on to the next in line.

  We continue our process until the line finally ends, and the last person is bagged up, cashed out, and on their way. Then, Libby pulls me in for a hug.

  “Thank you. That would have taken a lot longer if you hadn’t helped.”

  “I didn’t really do that much. I don’t know how to run the register, but I do know how to fold clothes.”

  “Well, I appreciate it. The other girl that was supposed to work this morning never showed up. It’s been a madhouse since I opened the doors. It’s always busy during Mum Fest. People from out of town like to spend money, and we’re close enough to the action that we get extra business.”

  “Makes sense.” I pause, unsure of how to change the conversation without making it obvious. “So, Mum Fest was fun last night. Did you have a good time?”

  Libby shoots me a glance and shakes her head. “I want details first. For instance, how do you know Grant?”

  “How do you know Grant?” Their casual interaction, and the fact that Chester neglected to introduce them to each other, made it obvious that they knew each other.

  “He’s been friends with Chester since he moved here in middle school. We all used to hang out when they went to our high school. When the lines were redrawn, both of them switched schools and we lost our all-star quarterback. That’s part of why the rivalry between the two schools is so big. We haven’t beaten them since they stole Grant.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “Remember that guy I was telling you about that I met in my Creative Writing class?” Libby nods and then her eyes get big as she realizes what I’m about to tell her. “Grant is that guy.”

  “But I thought you said he was in college?”

  “I thought he was. He never said he was in high school.”

  “So you were both lying.” Libby begins to laugh until she sees the serious look on my face. Clearing her throat, she quickly pulls herself back together.