by Carrie Ryan
“I owe you dinner,” I tell her.
She smiles shyly. “No, you don’t. You owe me a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
She stands in front of me with furrowed eyebrows. “I don’t get people to owe me favors much, so I better save this one for a rainy day. I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out.”
“You’re not like any other girl I’ve ever known.”
“Is that a good thing?” she asks, but then holds her hand up. “Wait, don’t answer that question.”
“Why?”
“Because my mom once told me never to ask questions I don’t want to know the answer to.”
I nod. “I wish I’d gotten that advice from my mom.”
“What’s the best advice she ever gave you?” she asks.
“She didn’t.” I look off into the distance, because the truth still stings after all these years. “My mom left when I was nine years old. She visited every couple of years, but I haven’t seen her in a while. I guess you could say my mom wasn’t a permanent fixture after she moved on. She was more of an acquaintance.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, it is what it is. No need to dwell on it now.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
“Nope.”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” she asks, then backs up and puts her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I know I ask too many questions. Just forget I asked that last one.”
She reaches up to slide her backpack off of the branch, but I put my hand over hers to stop her. “You don’t have to leave.” I look into her eyes and tell her the truth. Not because she’s prying, but because I want to. “I don’t blame her for bailing. I would have left if I was her, too.”
Willow leans forward and wraps her arms around me. “Thanks,” she murmurs into my chest.
“For what?”
She keeps her arms around me but looks up, her big brown eyes showing nothing but empathy. “Being real.”
I hug her back. “Thank you, Willow.”
“For what?”
“Letting me be real.”
––4––
WILLOW
I have a crush. A big one.
I didn’t mean to fall for Carson. Maybe it was the way he laughed when I told him to always be positive. Or maybe it was the way he hugged me two days ago, after I helped him make the pallets. I could always blame my crush on his eyes—those bright green, fire-reflecting eyes.
But deep down I know it’s not his eyes.
A loud banging noise outside interrupts my thoughts. I push our curtains aside and peek out the window. Carson is standing in front of his RV, making pallets. His muscles bunch up as he manipulates the pieces of wood and nails them together.
I watch him for a while, stupidly staring as if I’m watching the most captivating home improvement show known to man. When he wipes sweat off his face with his shirt and glances in my direction, I snap out of my trance and quickly let go of the curtain.
Show over.
Just as I’m vowing not to stare out the window at Carson and admire everything about him ever again, there’s a knock at the door.
Oh no.
Maybe I should ignore it and hope he goes away so I don’t have to explain why I was spying on him.
I wince as I slowly open the door, ready to apologize to my neighbor for spying on him. But it’s not Carson standing in the doorway. It’s my friend Katie.
“Hey, Willow!” Katie says. Her curly blond hair is up in a ponytail and she’s wearing shorts so short they ride up her butt. I know this because her locker is next to mine and I always catch her picking her shorts out of her crack between classes. “Umm … is that your new neighbor with his shirt off?”
“Yes,” I say slowly.
Katie flips her hair back and says enthusiastically, “Wow. He’s even hotter than what you described.” She glances at Carson. “Invite him to the lake with us.”
“Carson!” I yell out. “Want to come to the lake with us?”
“Maybe later,” he says.
I’m ashamed to say that I wish he’d simply said no, for the mere fact that I like spending time with Carson alone. I know it’s weird, but when I’m with him I feel like we have this connection. If other people are with us, I’m afraid the connection will disappear. Or maybe I don’t want him to come to the lake because I don’t want to share him with anyone else.
I’m so selfish.
I head to the lake with Katie and give a short wave when we pass Carson.
“Have fun,” he says.
“We will,” I call out.
At the lake, our friend Dex is leaning back on his elbows, his face pointing toward the sun. Dex’s best friend, Tyler, is skipping stones near the water’s edge.
I sit on the bench next to Dex. We talk for a while … about school, life, and how sports is the center of the universe—that’s according to Dex.
“Katie tells me you’ve got a boyfriend,” Dex says.
“I do not have a boyfriend,” I tell him.
“She’s got a major crush,” Katie chimes in while Tyler is teaching her how to skip stones. “He’s not her official boyfriend … yet.”
I can feel my face getting red-hot just thinking about the prospect of Carson being my boyfriend. It’s a fantasy, not reality. “He doesn’t even know I like him,” I tell them. “Besides, we’re just friends.”
“With benefits?” Dex asks.
“No, it’s not like that.”
When Tyler and Katie challenge each other to jump in the lake fully clothed, Dex turns to me. “Is that the boyfriend?”
I look to where his attention is focused. My mouth goes dry when I see Carson walking over to us. “Shh, don’t embarrass me,” I tell Tyler in a hushed whisper.
Carson stops right in front of me and smiles. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He’s wearing a tank top, showing off muscles that I’m itching to touch. I feel like my face is on fire just thinking about it. “Carson, this is Dex, Katie, and Tyler. They live at Seaside, too.”
Carson shakes Dex’s hand, then nods to Tyler and Katie.
Carson finds a spot next to me on the bench and nudges me with his shoulder. “So these are your friends, huh?”
“Yep. Just so you know, sometimes they act normal, but it’s not often.”
“We were just about to have a competition,” Dex says. “You game, Carson?”
Carson shrugs. “Depends on what type of competition.”
“Basically,” Dex explains, “you have to skip a rock and the one who makes it skip the most times wins.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Carson says, now standing.
“I forgot to tell you what the losers have to do.” Dex grins. “They have to jump in the lake … naked.”
Carson looks toward me and I shrug. “I told you they weren’t normal.” I toss a stick at Dex. “Carson isn’t playing, so go find someone else to challenge.”
“Why not?” Dex says. “He chicken?”
“No,” I tell him. “He just doesn’t want to make the rest of us have to look at your naked body.”
I stand up. “Come on,” I say, grabbing Carson’s hand and leading him back toward our homes. “We’ll see you later.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Tyler calls out, then laughs.
I’m painfully aware that we’re still holding hands as we walk through the gravel paths of Seaside. I don’t want to let go anytime soon, and savor the warmth of his skin on mine. I wonder what it would be like to be Carson’s girlfriend.
When we reach his place, he releases my hand and points to a pickup truck parked a few feet away. I’d noticed it earlier, but thought it was one of the neighbor’s new trucks.
“New wheels?” I ask him.
“Yep. Like it?”
I saunter around the truck, taking in all the scratches and dents.
“It needs a little work,” he admits.
“It ha
s character,” I tell him, then pat him on the back. “Like you.”
“You sayin’ I need work?” he asks.
“We all need work. You especially.” I push him back playfully, then try to dodge away from him but trip on his foot and lose my balance. He reaches out and grabs my arm, keeping me from falling.
“Ow!” I say, clutching my arm and pretending his grip was too rough. “That’s gonna bruise.”
“I’m so sorry.” He steps toward me, suddenly serious. “I didn’t mean it.”
He gently holds me against the truck and pulls up my sleeve.
“I’m just kidding,” I say, laughing.
“Don’t joke about that.” His face is close to mine now, his expression grave. He brushes stray hairs out of my face, his fingertips gently touching my cheek. “I would never hurt you.”
“I know.”
He looks down at me, his eyes piercing mine so intently I feel like I’m getting a glimpse inside his wounded soul. Being so close to him makes my heart beat a million times a minute. I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly. My entire life has been waiting for this moment.
As if he can read my mind, he bends his head down to kiss me. I’m ready for this. More than ready.
I lift my head up so our lips are just inches apart now. I close my eyes and wait for his lips to meet mine, but they don’t. A car passes us, and instead of ignoring it Carson leans back and the moment is gone.
“Sorry about that,” he murmurs, then rubs the back of his neck in frustration.
“About what?”
“Forget it.” He starts to walk away from me. “I gotta go.”
“Wait,” I call out. He stops, but doesn’t look at me. I don’t want him to walk away just yet. I liked the way he looked at me when he was about to kiss me. I want to hold his hand again. My words stream out of my mouth without my brain fully registering what I’m saying. “I’m calling in that favor you owe me.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Take me on a date, Carson.”
––5––
CARSON
I look at myself in the small, old mirror in the bathroom as I shave after taking a long, hot shower. Tonight is the night. My date with Willow.
How did I get myself into this mess?
I didn’t have anything remotely decent to wear tonight. I went to the thrift store in town this afternoon and bought a button-down shirt and jeans that don’t have holes in them. I figure Willow wouldn’t appreciate me showing up for a date in my usual ripped jeans and T-shirt.
At eight, I knock on her door. Her father answers it, but doesn’t invite me in. Instead, he says, “Willow, Carson is here,” then motions for me to follow him as he walks outside.
“So … besides the occasional small talk, I haven’t had a chance to really get to know you,” Baxter says. “Tell me about yourself, son.”
“There’s not much to tell. I’m eighteen, originally from Miami, and, well, let’s just say I’m trying to figure out life.”
“My daughter speaks highly of you,” he says. “Seems like you two have some sort of friendship.”
I nod.
Baxter pats me on the back. “Just remember that she’s a special girl … my only child. And she’s sixteen.”
“You have nothing to worry about. We’ll be home early.”
My words seem to satisfy him. “Good. I think we’re on the same page. Let’s keep it that way and we’ll get along just fine.”
The door to the Baxters’ RV opens and Willow steps out. She’s wearing dark jeans that hug her curves. Her shirt is cut just low enough to give a small glimpse of the curve of her breasts. Damn. I didn’t know up until now that the girl had curves.
But she does.
She’s even got makeup on, making her look older than sixteen. My body is reacting to her, and I wasn’t expecting that.
“You look great,” I tell her when she steps closer.
She smiles sheepishly. “Thanks.”
My instinct tells me to scan her up and down a second time, but I stop myself. I sense that both of her parents are staring at us, analyzing our interaction. The entire situation is awkward. It’s no wonder I never wanted to meet my ex-girlfriend’s parents when I was in high school. I’m used to running away from parental scrutiny, and I’m itching to get out of here.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
In the car, Willow sighs. “Thanks for taking me out. I know you don’t want to.”
“It’s cool,” I tell her. “We’ll have fun.”
Once I drive away from Seaside and we’re on the road, Willow stares out the window. I expect her to talk my ear off, but she’s silent, and it feels strange.
At a stoplight, I turn to her. “Talk.”
She looks at me innocently. “About what?”
“Hell if I know. I just got used to hearing you blabber on about stupid stuff. It’s what you do. I miss it.”
“Sorry.” She fidgets with her hair. “I guess I’m nervous about tonight.”
“No need to be nervous. This isn’t a real date, Willow. Think of it as two friends just hanging out, okay?”
She nods. “I joined the debate team, but I don’t like it. I mean, they give us time limits on our speeches, as if debating is a time-sensitive sport.”
“Sport?” I question. “Since when is debate a sport?”
“It is. I’ll tell you why.” I can tell she’s getting excited by the way she shifts her body and talks with her arms waving around as if they’re an extension of her words. “It’s something you either win or lose, like any sport. It’s something you have to practice, like any sport. And it’s exhausting, like any sport. Am I right or am I right?”
I laugh.
“What? You don’t agree with me?”
“I’m afraid not to agree with you, Willow. For fear I’ll have to get into a debate with you.”
“Would that be the worst thing in the world, actually talking and debating something? At least you’d be talking.”
“I talk. Just not as much as you. And I don’t debate.”
“It’s like fighting, but with your brain and words instead of fists.”
“I don’t fight.”
“You’re going to tell me you’ve never been in a fight? Ever?”
“Sure, when I got in the middle of my dad beating the crap out of my mom. I got in fights then. That was in the past, though. I’ve moved on.”
––6––
WILLOW
After dinner, we get in Carson’s car. “Are we going somewhere else?” I ask. I don’t want the night to end so soon.
He looks at me sideways as he turns onto the main road leading to Seaside. “I thought you’d want to go to a movie. That’s what people do on dates, right?”
“Absolutely. But since you insisted on paying for dinner, I’ll pay for the movie.”
He shakes his head. “No way. This is a date and I’m paying.”
“You said it wasn’t a real date earlier. Remember?”
“Maybe I lied.”
The entire night has felt like a real date, and even though this is my first one it feels as real as they get. At the box office, Carson asks me what movie I want to see. There’s an action movie called Trigger and a romantic comedy called Hearts on Fire. In the end, I choose Trigger. I know Carson will like it, and to be honest I like action movies just as much as romantic comedies. A bunch of kids from school are in the theater, and I’m suddenly self-conscious.
“Willow Baxter’s in the house!” Tyler screams from the back row.
Dex waves us over. “Yo, lovebirds, come sit with us!”
I look up at Carson. “Please ignore them. I swear I didn’t know they’d be here. If you want to see Hearts on Fire instead—”
“Nah,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to one of the middle sections of the theater. “It’s all good.”
“You don’t want to sit with us?” Dex asks.
Carson gives him
a short, mocking salute. “Get your own date, dude. I’m not sharing mine.”
Carson and I share a drink and a bag of popcorn he bought at the concession stand. I’m hyperaware that other kids from school are staring at us—especially Mandi Milner, who just walked in. Mandi is the popular senior girl who every guy wants to date. She’s got long, perfect hair and a face that is so cute and feminine every other girl looks manly next to her. Especially me.
I watch as Mandi scans the theater, then eyes Carson and proceeds to lead her group of friends into our aisle. Please don’t sit next to my date, I say silently to myself.
But I’m not that lucky. Sure enough, Mandi plops herself in the seat next to Carson.
“Hey, Willow,” she says, smiling as if we’re best friends. “Who’s your friend?”
“Mandi, this is Carson,” I mumble, wishing the previews would start so it’d be too loud to have a conversation.
Carson nods to Mandi and says, “S’up.”
I know she’s going to take all of his attention. To be honest, I don’t even blame her.
“I’m so excited about this movie,” she says, trying to start a conversation like I knew she would.
But he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he leans toward me and puts his arm across my shoulders and pulls me in close so I’m leaning into his warm, muscular chest. As the previews start, he leans in to my ear and says, “I bet she doesn’t make pallets half as good as you do.”
I laugh. “I bet you’re right.”
Carson’s arm doesn’t move from my shoulders for the entire movie. Afterward, he takes my hand as we leave the theater. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Mandi and her friends are watching us, and I feel invincible and desirable and pretty.
It isn’t long before we’re back in the car on the way back home.
“Just so you know, you’re an awesome date,” I tell him as he makes the turn into Seaside.
“Thanks. I had a good time, Willow.” He stops the car in front of his place and turns to me. “It’s been a long time since I had a good time. You’re a super cool girl.”
