Doubles Love

by Ali Dean

  The thought has me reaching out for him as he walks away, and he spins around, a question on his face.

  “Why not now? Let’s talk now.” It comes out like a dare, but we both have to accept the challenge. And, I’m scared, but feeling a little reckless. Impatiently reckless.

  Jesse nods, but he still hasn’t relaxed. He keeps our hands locked together, as he brings me back into the garage. An odd place to talk, but I’m glad for it. I don’t want to be in his room, or the guest room where I stay, or anywhere else that could change this dynamic. We need neutral territory.

  “What did that mean?” he asks, as soon as the door shuts behind us. “You said that I’m one to talk about reputations. What kind of reputation do I have?”

  I glare at him. “We’re not here to talk about your reputation, Jesse.”

  “No, really. I want to know.”

  “You’ve had a lot of girlfriends. It’s not a secret.” I decide to appease him, and get this over with, so we can talk about whatever else is going on.

  “Right. But I’ve heard Chester talk about you. He wanted you, Mac, and you act so tough that sometimes I even forget how innocent you are.”

  “What is this? We’re talking about this?” I’m seething, and I don’t know how I went from zero to a hundred so fast.

  “Fuck,” Jesse curses like he means it, and it causes me to step back. His lips tremble as he takes purposeful breaths. Jesse’s composed demeanor threatens to deteriorate, and it shakes me. He’s upset. Really upset. “This isn’t what I wanted to talk about, okay? I’m sorry. Just, Mac, you don’t know what you do to me. If anything happened to you, I’d go crazy.”

  “You? Crazy? You’re steady, Jesse. You’d never go crazy over anything.”

  He just shakes his head, like I don’t understand a thing about him.

  “And, what? I’m not allowed to be with guys if I want to? It’s fine for everyone else, but not for me? What is going on, Jesse? Tell me. Really. Just tell me.” When he said I was innocent, it felt like a lie. A dirty one. I’m tainted. My mother has ruined me. Maybe he’ll say it to my face. But he doesn’t. He says something totally cryptic, or maybe it’s clear as day, and my own mess is the only thing obscuring it.

  “Do you really have no idea, Mac?” His voice has gentled, but there’s impatience there, too. “I’ve never said it because I didn’t want to embarrass you or make it harder for you to ignore. You’ve tolerated me, and we seemed to have an understanding. But, you’re looking at me right now like you’re so confused, and I’m wondering if I completely misunderstood all along.”

  I’m holding my breath, and, if he looked down, he’d see my hands are shaking.

  “You, Mac. I want you. And, if you don’t want me, that’s fine. I’ll always be your family. But, I thought you knew, and that you didn’t care.”

  I stop him. I want to ask him how, why, since when? My brain wants to pry open those words and dissect every inch of them. But my body only hears I want you… I want you… I want you, and it moves close to him, so we’re chest to chest.

  And, some girl I don’t even know inside of me says, “So kiss me.”

  He searches my eyes, maybe to make sure it’s really me saying it, because we both know I’ve never uttered those words before, but then he slides his hands over my hips, and lowers his head, and the soft lips I’ve spent countless hours both imagining and trying hard not to imagine on mine are actually on mine. In mine. Connected to me. Our lips start out asking questions and seeking answers, but we move past that quickly, and years of longing takeover.

  We can’t get enough of each other, and Jesse has me up against the garage wall so he can mold his body to mine. Something clatters to the floor when we shift together, but neither of us pause. I can feel all of him, hard and wanting, pressing at my core, and I can’t believe I’m so turned on from my very first kiss. My first encounter with a boy, and my legs are jelly. If he didn’t have me pinned to the wall, and wasn’t holding me up with his hips, his hands, his thighs, I’d be a pile of limbs on the ground.

  Another clatter pulls Jesse out of a trance, so he stops kissing me, and leans his forehead on mine. “We. Need. To. Stop.” He breathes out the words painfully, and I want to ignore them and make him put his lips on me again, but I’m breathing so hard and feeling so much that I can’t move or speak.

  My hips shift up of their own accord, unhappy and impatient with the pause, and Jesse groans before peeling his body off of mine. He steadies me, letting my legs remember gravity. “Mac. You are….” Jesse’s voice drifts off, and he seems to lose his thoughts as he looks on the ground.

  “I’m what?”

  “There aren’t words. At least, I have none.”

  My heart soars at that, and my body melts into liquid again, even as I try to regain my senses. No, that’s not right. My senses are totally on overload. I want to ask him, what now? What did that mean? Everything? Nothing? But, it’s too soon for that. I, for one, am not thinking clearly.

  He tugs my hand, and tells me we need to get back to the party. I’m disappointed the kiss, or whatever that was, is ending so abruptly and we can’t stay together, alone, in the garage, for longer. But this is his house, his party, and his sister isn’t here to hold down the fort. He’s already left once to pick me up.

  Which reminds me. “Who called the cops on the Woodland party?”

  Jesse shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m going to ask around.”

  “Will they call the cops on you?”

  “They haven’t yet. Copy-catting like that is poor form, anyway,” he says with humor. Carefree, easy-going Jesse has returned. It wasn’t the Woodland thing that had him in that state. It was me. Me at a party I shouldn’t have been at. Me running from the cops. Me alone with a guy who’d talked about me and had a reputation. Jesse and I still have a lot to talk about.

  We head onto the back patio where the party is in full swing, and people call out to Jesse, asking where he’s been. A few girls on my team are here, and they ask me the same question, and then about Emma, but I brush it off. No one assumes Jesse and I were kissing off years of pent up wanting in the garage. Any speculation about the two of us has faded over time. It’s a relief to keep it our own, for now, but also a letdown. My world just exploded into a million colors, and it seems as if everyone else should be able to see it, but Jesse and I separate as if nothing happened at all.

  Doubt hits immediately. Is he acting like nothing happened out of respect for me, or because he’s ashamed? Does he regret it? Wow. I can’t believe how quickly my mood can shift. I feel like I’ve been waiting for this rollercoaster ride forever and, now that it’s here, I don’t know if I can handle it.

  “Hey!” Sally Childs sways toward me. “Mackenzie Bell! I’ve been looking for you.” Her eyes are bright and blurry at the same time, and I wonder if she’s drunk, or high, or both.

  “Hi, Sally. Having a good night?”

  “Crazy, Mac, just crazy. You know how we talked about the Woodland thing? Or maybe it was just me talking, I don’t know.

  Well,” she looks around and steps closer, lowering her voice slightly. “Dave Walden called me a couple hours ago, and said I should come here, and I was real tempted because, um, Dave is hot, right?”

  She sways on her feet before finding the deck railing to steady herself.

  “My friends didn’t want to leave Olivia’s party, though. I mean, it was huge. And I didn’t have a ride. And then Dave got real sneaky, and said he couldn’t say details except that Olivia’s party would get broken up real soon.”

  Her eyes widen, and she waits for my reaction. “Yeah, I heard the cops came.”

  “Yeah. I think Dave set that up. But he saved me, Mac! I got two of my friends to come with me, and then we just heard about the cops. Dave is awesome. Just, so awesome. Do you think I should sleep with him?”

  Whoa. What? “Um, I really don’t know, Sally. I think you’ve had a lot to drink.” But I don’t know this girl
. Maybe this is exactly what she wants.

  “Yeah, you just seem so wise and smart and stuff. My friends, well,” she gestures off to a group of people sitting around a fire pit. “They sleep with everyone. But, I want Dave to really like me. So, maybe I shouldn’t?”

  “Sally, I’m really not the girl to ask about these things. I don’t know you or Dave very well.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I saw you with Jesse, and I watched him when you left. Mackenzie, do you know that he is like, way into you?”

  “What? How do you know these things?”

  She rolls her eyes, and the movement makes her sway again. “He has it so bad for you. It’s adorable, and makes me way jealous. That’s why I’m asking you about Dave. How do you get a guy to want you like that?”

  I’m about to tell her that sleeping with Dave at a party, drunk, is probably not the way to do it, but then I spot Jesse taking a seat in a chair by the fire pit, and I get distracted. Bianca followed him over there, and she was so close, there’s no way he didn’t notice her.

  And, then, she sits right on his lap, almost like he invited her there, and he doesn’t react. No stiffening of the posture, no indication he doesn’t want her there. Jesse’s not the kind of guy who would push her off or anything, but still. He was just kissing me like I was the only girl left on earth.

  “Oh,” Sally says sadly. She’s turned to see what has my attention, and I can practically feel her deflating beside me. It’s not what she thought between Jesse and me. It’s not what I thought a few minutes ago. How could he do that? Get my hopes up, and then crush them? Did I totally misunderstand what went on in there?

  He said he wanted me. That’s all. Just wanted me. He didn’t say anything more about it. And, he’s wanted plenty of girls. I should have asked what he really meant by that, but, instead, I asked him to kiss me. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I’m no wiser than Sally. Just a girl who wants a guy and, the second he shows interest, I’m all over it.

  “I should go home,” I say quietly. “It’s late.”

  Sally, for all her babbling, has nothing to say. She just watches me, eyes wide, and then she looks at Jesse and Bianca, and back at me.

  I keep thinking he’ll ease her off of him somehow, diplomatically, in his Jesse way, but he hasn’t done it yet, and it’s been at least a full minute. I want to throw up. I want to scream and punch something. Mostly, I want to run away.

  It only takes a few minutes to walk back to my house and crawl into bed. I go over and over the words Jesse said in the garage. He never made any promises of forever. He only said he wanted me, he’d never acted on it because I was family, and he didn’t want to embarrass me. Those were similar enough to my own reasons for keeping my feelings a secret that I’d just assumed we shared the same feelings all along. I’d let my hope for it deceive me. I hadn’t seen clearly. He only wanted me like he wanted all his girlfriends. Aside from our friendship and my place in his family, it wasn’t any different for him. I wasn’t any different.

  He said he thought we’d had an understanding. That we hadn’t hooked up because of the family thing, and that I didn’t care. Oh, I cared. Had I acted like I didn’t care?

  My phone buzzes with a text from Jesse, asking where I am, but I don’t respond. I can’t. He calls a few minutes later, but I reject it, and shut my phone off. I can’t let him see how much this hurt me. I

  can’t lose my family. I have to pretend it never happened.

  Chapter 6

  6AM on Sunday morning is happy hour for the senior tennis population. I feel out of place without white hair and wrinkles, as I roll a basket of balls out to one of the few empty courts. They watch me curiously, smiling in approval at my dedication. But I’m not here because I’m a shining example of athletic discipline. I’m here because the little yellow fabric balls offer me exactly what I need. They are simple and reliable, essential to the game, but with no stake in its outcome. They depend on me as much as I depend on them, which is completely and not at all; we’re here for each other, but we can survive alone.

  I toss one into the air, and hit a warm-up serve. My muscles are sluggish to wake up, but I throw a few more serves, refusing to jog around the court or otherwise separate myself from my racket and the balls in order to do a proper warmup.

  I’m halfway through the bucket of tennis balls, wishing I had someone to play against, or at least a machine shooting balls at me, since serving one after the next isn’t fast enough, when a friendly voice calls out to me.

  “Mackenzie Bell! What are you doing here so early?”

  Sasha Turner opens the gate to my court, and lets herself in. She’s got on her signature white Nike hat, and one of many stylish tennis outfits.

  “Hey Sasha, any chance you want to rally with me for a bit?”

  “I was hoping you’d ask that.” Sasha was one of the top players in the world in her prime, and she and her husband are now the head coaches on my club team. We don’t have official practices with the club during high school season, but, occasionally, I’ll get to play with her one-on-one on days like today, when there’s no high school practice.

  Sasha must sense I’m not in a chatty mood because she gets right to it, rallying back and forth for an hour before ramping it up to an impromptu match. She’s the best female player around, and the only one who consistently beats me.

  Today, I’m throwing everything into each shot, playing with abandon. Typically, I’m more of a defensive player, letting my opponent set the tone and responding accordingly. I tend to prefer it that way, but today I can’t hold back. I slam one hard shot after the other, sprinting around the court like a madwoman when Sasha gains an upper hand. I’m playing with a newfound aggression that I didn’t know I had in me.

  Sasha ends up taking the set 7-5, but she doesn’t hold back the praise. “That wasn’t anything like the way you played yesterday,” she comments.

  “You were there? I didn’t see you.”

  “You know I like to swing by, and check out my players. I only caught a game or two of yours. You weren’t even paying attention.”

  We roll the basket of tennis balls up toward the clubhouse together.

  “Yeah, I didn’t have to. With you, I can’t get away with that.”

  She laughs good-naturedly, and then she nods toward the parking lot. “Looks like your mom’s here to play golf. Is that a new boyfriend?”

  I glance up, and my mother has a golf bag slung over her shoulder, waving at me like everything is normal. I haven’t seen her since leaving dinner on Friday night. Roger is beside her, and he waves as well. I lift my hand, playing the part. Yes, Hillcrest Country Club, we are just the normal, everyday family.

  “Yeah. Roger Carmichael,” I mutter. Sasha tolerates Delilah Ferris like most people do, but she’s one of the few who knows enough to know that my relationship with my mother is not a normal one. Sasha and her husband have coached me for ten years, and they are friends with the Kendricks, so they aren’t deceived. They’ve been over for dinner with Laura and Paul a few times, and often enough to know that I practically live there.

  “Mackenzie, darling,” my mother says as we approach. “Sasha, how are you?”

  My mother introduces Roger, and the adults chat about the weather for a few minutes. I’m itching to leave. I wasn’t paying attention when I came home last night, but I noticed an unfamiliar car in our driveway when I pulled out this morning. It’s the same Lexus that I watched Roger climb out of a moment ago. I wonder if he even knows that the cops were at his house last night. Maybe it’s not even his house anymore.

  Sasha excuses herself, and I’m already headed toward my own car when my mother calls out to me. “Oh, Mackenzie, darling, we’re having a special dinner tonight.”

  I turn around to look at her. We just had one on Friday. What other news could she have for me? My heart rate picks up with the possibilities. She looks at Roger. “Roger and I thought it would be nice for you to meet his daughter, Olivia. She’s close
to your age.”

  “Olivia’s a senior at Woodland,” Roger adds. “I think you two could be friends.”

  Are they playing at something, or just totally clueless?

  “Where’s the dinner?”

  “Our house,” my mother states proudly. I must give her a funny look, because she adds, “We’re having food delivered from Juliano’s. I know it’s your favorite.”

  I can’t even answer that attempt at maternal affection. I almost say, “Yeah, when I was five,” but I know that sarcasm gets me nowhere. Playing along is the easiest way to handle Delilah Ferris.

  “Great.”

  But, when I’m in my car, windows down, angry music blaring, I wonder if there’s any way I can get out of this dinner without causing an explosion. She’s pushed me farther than she usually does, and I don’t like it. Meeting for a dinner at the club to meet the next guy she’ll marry, I can handle that. Having his daughter come over to our house, where we’re expected to play nice and pretend we can be friends one day? That’s really pushing it.

  I’m sweating from head to toe from playing some of the hardest and best tennis of my life, a completely unexpected thrill after a sleepless night, and it takes only one conversation with my mother to pierce through the elation. I’m furious. How can she put me in this position? I thought we had an unspoken deal to stay out each other’s lives except for appearances’ sake? And I don’t think it was Roger’s idea, from the little I know of the guy. He does everything for appearances, too, and this goes above and beyond that.

  Could it have been Olivia who wanted this? Why? What does she know about me?

  I’m distracted when I get home, and finally turn my phone back on from last night. Jesse and Emma both called and left several texts. Emma wants to tell me all about her night and get the details on mine. A different wave of emotion hits at the thought of that conversation. I suddenly feel like my entire life is out of control. All the pieces that seemed to be fitting together, if precariously, are not only slowly sliding out of place, but reshaping themselves entirely. And, what am I supposed to do about it? Recreate myself and my relationships?