Him

by Carey Heywood

  Using his foot, he pushes the chair closest to me out. "Why don’t we have a chat, Sarah."

  Chapter 10

  Past

  Our first day back at school is interesting. It feels like the whole school knows about Will kissing me at the amusement park. I have never felt so evaluated. I can only guess what everyone is thinking. What is Will Price doing with her? I don’t even have any classes with him to see if he's feeling the same thing. We do have the same lunch, so when the weather’s nice we eat outside. I get to our table before him and panic for a moment, wondering if he's changed his mind about me. My fear is short-lived when I see him make his way over to me only moments later. Everyone's eyes follow him as he drops his backpack and leans down to capture my lips. He doesn’t break our kiss as he moves to sit next to me. I lean into him and sigh. He pulls back to look at me, tilting his head to the side to smirk at me.

  I bump him with my shoulder, and he offers me a French fry. I open my mouth. As I go to take a bite, he pulls it away, eating it instead. He laughs when I pout and nicely feeds me a fry. He looks around us, tensing when he notices everyone has been watching us.

  He chews on the corner of his mouth. "How are you doing?"

  "It's weird. People never really noticed me before. I wish they'd stop."

  He takes my hand in his and kisses it. "I'm sorry."

  I reach out to touch his cheek with my other hand. "Don't apologize. You are amazing."

  He leans over to kiss my cheek before feeding me another fry.

  ~*~

  At the end of the day, we walk to his car. He opens my door for me before getting in. Once we're out of the parking lot, his hand rests on my thigh as we drive away. My seat is reclined, and I'm on my side, facing him. It's like I don’t want to take my eyes off of him. I pull his hoodie from the back seat and use it as a pillow. I glance down to his hand as his thumb slowly strokes my leg. I love the freckle on the back of his hand. Feeling impulsive, I pull his hand to my mouth and kiss it. He looks over at me, giving me a lopsided grin. It's still months away, but I cannot imagine how I will function when he goes to Italy. The language CD is going.

  He pulls my hand up to his lips. "Bella ragazza. Wanna go get some ice cream?"

  I smile, still not believing William Ethan Price asked me to be his girlfriend. As many times as I had imagined this moment, none of my dreams could hold a candle to what it's like. He kissed me in front of the senior class and again in the cafeteria today. Now he is taking me for ice cream, and he just called me beautiful in Italian. He shakes my knee as he pulls into the parking lot. I pop my seat back up and look for my sunglasses. Will walks around to my side of the car, opening my door and wrapping his arms around my waist once I step out. I put my hands around his neck and run my fingers through his hair.

  He rubs his nose against mine. "Why didn’t we do this ages ago?"

  "You had a girlfriend."

  His forehead is pressed to mine. "Why didn’t you ever tell me?"

  "Tell you what?" I'm confused.

  "That you liked me."

  "The whole world likes you. I'm kind of trying to figure out why you like me."

  "I've liked you for a long time. That’s probably why Jessica has been such a bitch. She could totally tell I'd rather be with you."

  I don’t say anything. I just pull his mouth to mine. He pushes me back, leaning me up against his car.

  After a couple moments, he kisses his way up to my ear. "Want to go to my house?"

  I pull back, my mouth open. We never go to his house. He hates it over there. Why would he even ask? The idea makes me really nervous, and it's clearly written all over my face.

  "My mom is still at work. I thought we could swim in the pool. That way I'm the only one that gets to see you in your bikini."

  "Did you still want to get ice cream?"

  He gives me a look like, did you really just ask that? Then he kisses me again. The kiss is shorter this time, and holding hands, we walk up together to the parlor. He opens the door for me and comes to stand behind me, his arms around me as we wait to order. There are no other customers in the store, and we both already know what we want. Two scoops of chocolate chip in a chocolate-coated waffle cone for me and one scoop of fudge ripple, one scoop of cherry cordial in a plain waffle cone for Will. We have been coming here together for years and know the owner, Kurt, who is working today.

  "You kids finally dating?" he asks, looking at Will's arms around me.

  I blush and nod as Will kisses my neck.

  "This one is on the house. Think of it as my contribution to young love."

  "You don’t have to do that, Kurt," Will argues.

  "It's my pleasure, kids."

  Taking my cone and passing Will his, I turn back to Kurt. "Thank you so much."

  It doesn’t stop Will from slipping a ten into the tip jar. We walk outside and sit at a small bistro table just to the left of the door. It's like we're afraid to let go of each other. His hand holds mine on top of the table as we eat our ice cream. Will finishes his way before I do, as usual. I'm used to him waiting for me to finish mine, but this time it feels more intense. My hand in his, his eyes watching my mouth and each bite and lick I take. I can't meet his eyes as he watches me. I just flush and look away. A bit of ice cream drips down the side, and I move to catch it. Will's breath hitches as my tongue moves up the side of the cone.

  I giggle at his expression, and he groans, turning in his chair to face his car. "I can't watch."

  "I'm almost done." I grin.

  The idea that I can have a physical effect on him seems impossible to me. I can't help it. I giggle again.

  "You know you're killing me."

  "I'm sorry." But he knows I'm not.

  I finish my cone, and we get up to leave.

  Will pulls me to him for another kiss. "Hmm, you taste yummy."

  I gasp when he bites my bottom lip. His eyes burn into me when he pulls back. He runs his fingertip down the side of my face before opening my door for me. He drives over to my house so I can change into my suit. He waits in his car, his forehead resting on the top of his steering wheel when I get back in. He leans over to kiss me after I ask if he's okay. When we get to his house, we're quiet. I've only ever been inside a handful of times. It's just not a happy place. When Will was in elementary school, his older sister Bethany died from an undiagnosed heart condition. His mother has never fully moved past that day. Will told me once that nothing in his house has changed since her death. It’s like a giant time capsule. I go straight through the kitchen and out to his backyard while Will hurries upstairs to change.

  Will is done changing and in the pool before I even have my shoes off. His eyes lock on me as I shimmy out of my shorts and pull my t-shirt off. I make my way over to the stairs and slowly step into the water. Will is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. His hands reach out to touch my calves, and with each step I take, they move further up my body. Once his hands touch my waist, I'm lifted and in his arms. He hitches my legs up one at a time until they are wrapped around him. He walks us backwards until we are submerged to our necks.

  He takes my mouth, his hands firmly gripping my backside. My hands are in his hair. He's turned on. I can feel it. It kind of scares me. I don’t want to move too fast, but now that I finally have him, I don’t want to lose him. I may have tensed. Will pulls back to look at me.

  "Are you okay?"

  I nod and lower my head to kiss his neck. He moves us out of the deeper water and leans me against the pool wall. The tiles are warmed from the sunny day and hot against my shoulders. I lift my lips from his neck. He grins and lowers his to mine. I lean my head back as he moves his lips lower. His hands have moved up my sides, and his thumbs move back and forth, just barely touching the undersides of my breasts. I'm breathing heavy, my chest rising and falling sharply. His lips dust the swell of my breasts not covered by my top. Conflicted emotions are waging a war inside my head. What do I do if he tries to move my to
p? Should I let him? God, it feels so good, but I'm nervous.

  He moves his lips further up my neck. I lift my head, and his mouth is on mine again. He shifts his hands up, and his thumbs brush across the top of my suit. I shudder in his arms. He lowers his hands and pulls back. I open my eyes, confused. He's chewing on the side of his mouth, his eyes wide. I watch the rise and fall of his chest.

  "You shook when I touched you," he said quietly.

  I'm not sure what to say. I nod.

  He reaches a hand up to cup the side of my face. "You are so beautiful."

  "No, you are," I tease.

  He's smiling, even though he's shaking his head. "I'm serious. I want to know what you're thinking about all of this."

  I blush and look away. "It's all so new." I hesitate. "I get scared."

  His thumb brushes my cheek. "Do I scare you?"

  "That's not what I meant."

  "What did you mean?" I pause. "Sarah, you can say anything to me."

  I take a deep breath and look into his eyes "I haven't done all the stuff you have. I'm nervous you'd rather be with someone who has."

  His face breaks out into a wide grin. "And I am all knowing?"

  "Shut up," I huff.

  "Not going to happen. Just think of me as your teacher. Ha! You can call me sir if you want."

  "We both know I'm never calling you sir." I turn my face into his palm and bite it. If it's even possible, his eyes widen even more.

  "That's why you're the only girl I'll ever want, Miller Lite."

  He moves his hand to my waist, pulling us both back towards the stairs in the shallow end. He sits on the middle step. I'm now straddling him. I shift myself off of him, feeling exposed, and sink down to wet my hair. He's leaned back on the stairs, his elbows rested on the next step up. I swim up between his legs and lay my head down on his chest. He brings one hand forward to trail up and down my shoulder blade. I turn my head to kiss his chest. He's lean and cut. I consider licking the ridges of his abs. He surprises me, pushing off the steps, taking me with him. He swings me up into his arms and carries me out of the pool.

  He lays down on a lounge, pulling me on top of him. I laugh, propping myself up on my elbows and look down at him. He's grinning, reaching a hand up to push my hair behind my ear. I could look at him all day. He bucks his hips, making me squeal before turning us onto our sides. I rest my head on his shoulder as he kisses the top of it. With his arms around me, we fall asleep.

  "What the hell is going on?"

  Will tenses next to me, and I blink my eyes open. It's dark out.

  "Shit. I guess my mom's home."

  I look over my shoulder quickly to see his mom standing in the doorway. She does not look happy. I look up at him, cringing. He leans forward and kisses my forehead. We slowly sit up, and I pull on a tank top and shorts. Stepping into my shoes, I hazard a glance up at Will's mom. I guess I just found out the hard way what the expression ‘if looks could kill’ feels like. Will has his shirt and shoes on. He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the house.

  "I'm going to run Sarah home, mom."

  "We are discussing this," she looks at me, "when you get home."

  Chapter 11

  Present

  I lay in bed, trying to find some inner strength to actually go downstairs. Yesterday had pretty much been a disaster, what with embarrassing myself at lunch and then crying over old photos in front of Will. My uncle Chip then proceeded to call me out on all of my bullshit. He knows better than anyone else what I might be going through. He had witnessed it first hand when I showed up a broken-hearted mess on his doorstep all those years ago. No, I never actually told him what had happened that night, but he was smart enough to figure out that it had to do something with Will.

  The last thing he had said to me the day before was, "Kiddo, there seems to be some unfinished business between you two. You going to deal with it this time, or are you going to run away again?"

  The answer to that question was easy. Run. I talked to Sawyer for a while last night. I wish there was some way I could fly her out for moral support. It's not like she doesn’t know my family. Well, everyone but Brian, and seeing as how it is his wedding, I can not think of an excuse. I should have plus one'd from the beginning. She is still certain that I can do this, is even encouraging me to talk to Will. Pretty sure that isn’t going to happen. Really, what would be the point? It’s ancient history.

  I only have four more days to go. My thoughts are interrupted by my stomach. I skipped dinner the night before, and my sub can only hold me over for so long. I glance at the alarm clock. It is just after eight. I check work email on my phone and answer any questions I know off-hand and forward the others to my assistant. I have an out of office auto-reply set up for incoming messages but feel better knowing nothing is blowing up in my absence. When I’m done, I pit stop in the bathroom before heading downstairs. My mom is in the living room reading. She asks if I'm feeling better as I pass. I nod. I had to fake a migraine the night before as an excuse to stay in my room. My dad is at the kitchen table drinking what I assume is his second cup of the day.

  He looks up as I walk in. "How's the head?"

  "Better." I strain some orange juice and sit down across from him, happy to see there are still a couple of muffins.

  I pick at my food, enjoying the quiet. My dad pushes the paper towards me, and smiling at him, I take it and start flipping through it. Out of habit, I go right to the horoscopes. Mine is all mumbo jumbo about Saturn lining up with Venus and investing. I roll my eyes. Will's is less planetary and talks about obstacles to overcome. My dad gets up to pour himself another cup. When he offers me one, I shake my head. My dad has always been so laid back. I wonder how, considering all of the caffeine he ingests on a daily basis. When I'm done with my muffin, I head upstairs to shower, passing Chip on the stairs.

  "Hiding under your blanket last night?"

  "No comment," I mumble.

  Today I am supposed to help my mom wrap ribbons around these sprays of faux flowers that will hang at the end of each pew at the church. After that, I plan to borrow her car and go into town. I have been so busy with work I still need to buy a wedding present. Worst case, if I can’t find anything I like on their registry, I can always just write them a check. Once I'm showered and dressed, I head downstairs. My mom has already separated the flowers by color so we can put them together assembly-style. We need to make forty of them.

  I pick up a spray of irises. "These match the dresses perfectly."

  "Christine looked everywhere for the right color. Once she found these, she bought the whole store out." It was clear my mom was a fan. "Sarah, speaking of your dress. Do you need me to steam it?"

  I slap my forehead. "I haven’t even taken it out of my bag."

  I race upstairs with my mother on my heels. Once in my room, I pull the plastic garment bag it is in from my suitcase. I untie the knot at the bottom and pull the plastic off. My dress is one sky blue wrinkle. I cringe and hold it up so my mom can see it too. She tsks at me as she takes it from me. I don’t own many wrinkle-resistant articles of clothing. I follow her to my parents’ bedroom and watch as she hangs it in their bathroom.

  "Sorry, mom."

  She swats my butt as she walks past and tells me not to worry. I follow her back downstairs, and she walks me through how Christine wants the flower sprays to look. By my fourth, I have it down. I look down at the first and second one I made, contemplating taking them apart and redoing them. For each one, we take three pale blue irises, one spray of baby's breath and two green leaves. The irises go in the back, then the leaves and the baby's breath in front. We secure the bundle with a rubber band before twisting pale blue and white ribbons around the stems. Just below the flowers goes a big white ribbon bow. At the church, there are silver rings mounted to the end of each row. The sprays will rest perfectly in the rings.

  "Who's making the other floral arrangements?" I ask, picturing Christine and Brian arranging flowers in the
ir apartment.

  "They hired a florist for the bouquets, boutonnieres, table toppers, and a couple decorative arrangements for the front of the church. The florist was going to do these sprays too with fresh flowers, but the price was crazy. I told Christine you and I could do it."

  "They look great," I say quietly, admiring the finished pile.

  "Christine found something on the internet on how to make them."

  "Well, if you are ever thinking of a new career," I joke.

  My mother has always been crafty. I still have many things she had made over the years, from scarves to jewelry and pottery. For a long time, I tried to talk my mom into selling her stuff at craft fairs or in boutiques. She had zero interest. She just made stuff because it was fun for her, not with any thought of turning a profit. I get that about her but still like to tease her. We are over halfway done when we stop for lunch.

  My mom makes a big chef salad with some pita chips on the side. She’s trying to keep it light because we have the rehearsal dinner that night. Apparently, it’s going to be a hell of a spread, or just hell, considering Will will be there. While I eat my lunch, I blush, thinking of my behavior the day before. I feel so guilty for bailing on the slideshow, especially since Brian had asked me for my help. Lord knows what Will thought of me. Why do I even care what he thought? That internal question may have been the silliest I have ever asked myself. I will always care what Will thinks of me. It is almost part of my DNA at this point.

  My mom has a couple of errands she has to run after lunch so I take over the rest of the spray making. Chip hangs out with me. I try, unsuccessfully, to show him how to make one when he offers to help. Flower arranging is not one of his skill sets. Instead, he passes me the next piece I need while I make them. I have loved Chip for as long as I can remember. He seemed larger than life when I was little. He is still tall, but I had caught up to him years ago back in high school. His once dark wavy hair is starting to sport some grey, but it suits him. That is one cruelty in life. Men seem to look distinguished with age. I can only hope I will age as gracefully as my mom and Chip.