Original publication date August 15, 2015
Grayson and I have been dating for a few weeks now. I feel like I can tell him anything. He and I were great friends, making a romantic relationship the next natural-feeling step. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
He makes a fantastic boyfriend, and we’ve started grossing out our friends at lunch or in the hallway or wherever at school because we’re constantly flirting, giving each other little kisses, etc. I really enjoy the affection; it makes life easier to bear. Lately, though, I’ve been “teaching” him how to kiss. Once we passed the simple kisses, he got sloppier. He keeps acting like he wants to eat my face, and I think that’s gross. Graham would always kiss me perfectly, and I miss him. Every time I happen to go to Willow Creek for whatever reason, my eyes bounce around, watching for him.
I often think about that half-conversation I heard with Nyla on the phone. That just had to have been Graham. My only doubt that it was is that Nyla didn’t predictably flirt with him. It doesn’t seem like her to miss that opportunity. I can’t bring myself to ask, and she hasn’t mentioned it.
One day, the police show up at Nyla’s house. They tell us Dad has disappeared, suspected of having robbed several people and stolen every asset from one man, even his identity. By the time they traced it all to Dad, he’d vanished. They question Nyla and me, but I don’t think we’re much help. While they question me, all I can think about is that they’re going to take me from her. I don’t want that to happen, especially if it means going back to my spineless mother after they arrest Dad, so I don’t tell them much. I pretend that I’m distracted by wanting to get my homework done, which I do.
Some of my grades are really suffering while in other classes, I caught up in a matter of days. I caught up in chemistry first, earning bonus points by completing an extra credit lab and presenting my findings in front of the class. Math took a bit more work, but I might be able to squeeze out a low B. My worst subjects are art because it’s not my thing, English because I just don’t get poetry and… history. Sometimes, I want to go and knock on Professor Taylor’s office door to ask him to actually be my tutor….just as an excuse to see him. But, I don’t.
My phone chirps, indicating I have a text.
Please meet me tonight at the far picnic tables in the park in Willow Creek. 10pm.
Graham! It’s from Graham!
He wants to see me? And he just expects me to show up without any explanation?
I boldly send a reply:
Why?
Because I need to talk to you. I feel badly about the ending of our last meeting.
I stand here and read his text over and over again. He feels badly? He needs to talk? I wonder what he has to say. Only one way to find out…
Okay
Thank you.
I’m going to see him again! My heart beats swiftly in my chest as I think about it. And he says he feels badly about our last time together, when we broke up, so I know it’s not going to be that I’m meeting with him so he can fuss at me.
What will I wear?
I decide to go with a slightly-cropped top and some shorts, knowing that the color will bring out my eyes. Not wanting to overdo it, I pull my hair back into a ponytail.
I find Graham standing near the table at the fishing hole. He looks lost in thought.
Fireflies flit around behind him, and a gentle breeze blows his hair forward. He reaches up to run his fingers through his hair to fix it back like he likes it. As he does, I see him let out a huff of mild annoyance. I’m a little late.
He must hear me approach because he turns to look at me. I try to read his mood through his expression, but I can’t. My curiosity about this meeting and its purpose grows.
“Hi,” he tells me casually. “Thank you for agreeing to talk to me.”
I offer up a small smile, not sure what to say. My hands shake as I look up at his warm brown eyes. I try to remind myself that he’s twenty-eight and that I need to leave him alone, but I can’t keep from wanting to wrap my arms around his neck and just hold him to me. My heart thumps painfully because I know I can’t.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking earlier. Did you have any trouble getting here?” he asks, referring to my lack of transportation before.
“I borrowed Nyla’s car. She’s out with her boyfriend.”
He blinks slowly. “I realize this is really stupid of me meeting you here, at night, by ourselves, but I figured that if you were going to do anything bad to me that you’d have done it already.”
I scowl. “Bad to you?”
His eyebrows raise like I should know what he means. “A private nighttime meeting with a minor? How do I know you’re not going to turn me in to the authorities? How do you know I’m not going to snatch you away and abduct you?”
Just the thought of his suggestion makes my heart beat even faster, and I can’t decide if it’s in excitement or fear. Still, I have to straighten him out.
“That’s ridiculous. You wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh? And how do you know that, Brielle? Because you know me oh so well after dating me for half a week?” He hits me with a hard stare, making me fidget.
“So, is this why you asked me to meet you here?” I decide to outright ask. I don’t like this side of him I’m seeing. He’s acting strangely, and I get the feeling that there’s a reason brewing beneath the surface, something he’s trying to hide.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, slumping his shoulders. Then, his hand reaches up and runs down his face before he says, “I’m sorry. You’re right. That’s absolutely ridiculous. I guess I should be happy you trust me like this, but at the same time, it both scares me and pisses me off because I could…” He doesn’t finish.
“Why not tell me why you wanted to talk to me,” I suggest.
“I’m trying,” he says in a frustrated tone. He stares at my arm, and I want to know what he’s thinking. He gives me a clue when he asks, “Did you use a glitter body wash or something?”
“No…” I reply, leaving it hanging to show my curiosity as to why he’d ask that. “Does it look like I did?”
“Yeah,” he says simply. He sighs quietly before a look of pain crosses his face.
“You said you’re a Virgo, right?” he asks, and I nod a yes. “When’s your birthday?”
“September fourteenth,” I answer.
“Okay,” he says, the wheels in his head turning almost audibly. He has to be wondering exactly when it is that I’ll turn eighteen.
“Why?” I ask anyway. I want to hear it.
He does a counting motion with one hand, and he gets to four. “Sixteen months.”
“Until I’m eighteen?” I ask. Does this mean he wants to wait?! A tiny seed of hope takes root inside my heart.
“Yeah,” he answers shortly. Then, he clamps his mouth shut, runs both hands through his hair until they rest against the back of his neck, turns around, and walks away from me several paces. I watch him, my heart aching, as he walks over to the water to look at the moonlight bouncing off its surface.
I stay in the same spot, regarding him as he crouches down to dip his fingertips in the water. As he moves them, ripples form, waving back and forth across the water before the mild turbulence disrupts them. He sighs again, stands up, and walks back over to me.
“I wanted to… You… The reason… Hm.” He makes a light snorting sound come out his nose before closing his eyes. I can’t help but smile. It’s all I can do to keep from giggling. I worry it would upset him if I did. He’s tense.
He opens his eyes and sees me smiling at him.
“You still think it’s funny when I get like that, don’t you?” he asks playfully.
A giggle slips out, and I nod. “Of course I do.”
“I’m trying to discuss what I called you out here to discuss, but I keep getting distracted.”
I shrug and smile. “Not my fault you keep getting distracted.”
He smiles a cryptic smile at me and says, “No, it’s completely, one-hundred percent your fault.”
I shake my head no. “Uh-uh. I think you’re avoiding it and using me as an excuse.”
He smiles sheepishly and looks down. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He shuffles his feet. “I want to apologize for claiming I didn’t know you.”
My face falls, and I can’t look at him. “Oh.” I stare at his shoes, remembering how hurt I was when he said that. The words stabbed me, making me think he felt nothing that happened between us was real.
He continues. “I was hurting.” After a pause, he says, “Something you said has been circling around and around in my head.”
“What?” I ask flatly.
His voice sounds strained. “You’re still you; I’m still me.”
“Yeah,” I state, again sounding lifeless.
“Yeah,” he echoes like he’s trying to be more upbeat about it. I glance at him. “But, obviously, that doesn’t make enough of a difference, enough of a point, but I know what you were meaning.”
“Right. It doesn’t make enough of a difference. I’m still sixteen.”
“Not in less than a year and a half, though,” he states in a sure voice. Then, he sounds more defeated as he questions, “But does it even matter?”
“What do you mean?” I ask and look at him to see a small glare.
“This is what I can’t figure out: Why? I have to know. Did I really mean so little to you that you wasted little time before… before acquiring a new boyfriend?” He manages to keep control of his voice, but he tenses up again like he’s bracing himself.
“That was you that night on the phone with Nyla,” I say.
“Yes. I won’t lie and say it wasn’t. She did give me her phone number after all, so I decided to use it to check up on you. I assume you heard what she told me. Imagine my…surprise.” He stops talking and swallows. Then, he steels himself for his next question. “I wonder to myself if it’s worth my time and patience if I mean so little to you. Is it even going to matter? Do I even matter? Everything was so short.” He exhales painfully. “Too damn short. I know myself, but you…” He can’t finish.
I inhale, and my breath hitches in my throat a few times. He still loves me, and finding out about Grayson hurt him.
“I mean, Brielle, I can’t expect…” He lets his statement drift off while I fight tears. “It was only three…four days, right? Just tell me now, and I’ll…” He doesn’t finish this statement either, and I hear him let out a pained breath. “Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry or I’ll do something stupid.”
I manage to find my voice. “Grayson is an old friend. We’ve been friends since we were kids, and he actually asked me out the Friday before our ‘picnic.’ I’d told him a pretty-much no, but he asked again when I finally went back to school. I didn’t see any reason why I shouldn’t.”
“Right,” Graham says in an understanding way. “True. Why shouldn’t you? You thought, rightly so, that I didn’t want anything to do with you anymore…if that matters.”
“I was hurting, and he made it easier to bear.” I take in another hitched breath. “I mean, yeah, I’m a little attracted to him,” because he reminds me of you, “but if we were together still, I wouldn’t have said yes.”
Silence echoes around the two of us for several moments. I have little idea what goes through Graham’s head. All I can think about is that I desperately want to wrap my arms around him, rest my head on his shoulder, and have him tell me that he doesn’t give a damn that I’m underage.
“Poor Grayson,” he says quietly.
“Huh?” I risk looking up at him again, and I see him looking back at me so sadly that it pierces my heart.
“It’s never an easy thing to be the rebound guy,” he explains gently, “especially if you started out as friends. I’ve been there.”
Jealousy streaks through me with the thought of Graham with someone else, and the streak ends in my stomach, twisting into a painful ball. Is this how Graham feels? Mine is only imagined, but his is real.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
His eyebrows go up in a worried look. “Please, Brielle. What I most need to know is… if… I should even bother or if I should just take a hike.”
“It’s not fair,” I say and try to hide my face.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
“I mean it’s not fair to you to ask you…” It’s not even fair to finish the sentence.
His voice has never sounded more beautiful than now when he says, “But I will.”
A little sob slips out of me before I can stop it, and I hear him breathe in quickly in pain. “Don’t,” he gasps out.
My voice whines as I say, “It’s just such a long time! It’s not fair! It’s so stupid! It’s not like my parents even care.” I throw my hand off my face and glare at him, not really at him but in his direction.
His head pops like he just got an idea, and I watch him concentrating on whatever idea it was that he had. Finally, he speaks. “I forgot to mention that your dad stole my wallet. He took everything I had, all my savings, stole my identity, everything. The police have tried to find him, but they can’t.”
“Oh, man, I’m sorry.” I say, shocked, remembering when the police came by the other day. I didn’t know at the time that it was because he’d robbed Graham. I scold myself now for not helping the police more when they’d questioned me. Then, I remember stuff my dad would say, stuff I’d somehow forgotten when they’d asked me the few questions. “He’d always talked about wanting to go to Bridgeport. That or Lucky Palms. That’s just sick that he’s probably doing that on your money. I hate him.” We need to get Mom and my brother away from him. I don’t want to live with them, but then again, maybe she wouldn’t be so bad, so spineless, on her own.
“Bridgeport or Lucky Palms?” he asks, and I nod. “Interesting.” He hasn’t lost that super-thoughtful look.
“What is it?” I ask, dying of curiosity.
“I’m not going to say right now,” he says carefully. “And you should probably get back to your sister’s.”
I scowl at him. I’m not ready to say goodbye, goodnight, or anything that means I have to leave his presence. Just being near him has really helped. I worry that if I’m away from him again that the pain will return.
“I’ll walk you to her car.”
We walk together. Graham shoves his hands in his pockets, and the only noise around us is the frogs croaking like they’re having a miniature battle over who gets the best bugs. I wish I knew something to say that could extend our meeting, but everything I can think to do could possibly end with the two of us doing what we shouldn’t. When we get to Nyla’s car, he opens the door for me.
“Is it okay if I call you sometimes?” he asks.
“You’d better,” I say in a sassy voice, and he smiles. The thoughtful look never leaves his face, though, as he watches me drive away.
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