13. Greer
13
Greer
T here was a moment this afternoon when I wasn’t sure I was going to survive the shopping venture with my mom. It started out looking for one outfit and ended in a total wardrobe overhaul. Which was necessary. For the past year, I’ve existed in work clothes or athleisure wear. Who needed going out clothes when you never went out? Mom finally relented and let us leave when she realized I actually had to get ready for tonight.
Tonight.
With Luke.
Was it a date? Were we just arriving together because we were neighbors? These questions have been running through my mind all afternoon. Cold water runs down my back, soap suds swirling down the drain. My anxiety spirals a similar path through my body, around and around and around.
“Why am I so nervous?” I say aloud. I apply conditioner, then begin the arduous process of shaving everything. An expert at dating I am not, but even I know a woman never wants to be caught unawares with a forest between her legs. Not that I’m planning on Luke seeing or feeling my forest. I think?
No, definitely not. There’s no way anything like that will happen tonight. I mean, maybe Luke doesn’t see me in that way. Jesus, Greer, the man can barely keep his hands off you as it is. He definitely wants you that way. What if I get nervous or what if . . . what if I want . . . My chest tightens.
Inhale. Exhale.
I allow each breath to subdue the rising tide, and after only a few rounds, my thoughts clear and breathing normalizes.
I step from the shower, pat my skin dry, lather on body lotion, and begin my facial routine. A simple girl I may be, but one who’s not lacking a skin care routine.
“This kind of stuff was easy with you,” I tell Brian, hoping that voicing my fears will ease any lingering nervousness. “We never really had to date date , did we? We just were what we were, young and in love, without a care in the world.” And it’s true, we met in our college algebra class, and we just were . In fact, months later, we’d had to decide on an anniversary date because neither of us could remember when we became an us .
Mom helped me pick out a simple black dress to pair with my cowboy boots, so I decide to wear my hair down in loose curls. After taking out my makeup bag, I apply the basics. I might take a little extra time on my eyes, applying mascara to make them pop. As I’m putting on the final coat, there’s a knock at my door.
“Shit, who in the world could that be?” Making sure my white towel is secure, I finger comb my wet hair as I walk down the hallway.
There’s another knock accompanied by a loud, but subtle, “Greer? It’s me.”
I freeze, hand on the doorknob. This man has yet to see me dressed in anything semi-normal, and now he catches me like this. I shake my head then unbolt the lock and open the door.
“Fuck,” he mutters as his eyes rake over every exposed inch.
“Hey, is everything okay?”
“You—you’re in a—”
“Oh, yeah.” I look down, cheeks flushing. “You caught me getting ready.”
He closes his eyes, inhaling and exhaling audibly. “Do you want to go to dinner before we meet up with everyone tonight?” When he finally opens his eyes, they don’t stray from my face.
“You could have texted,” I tease.
He shuffles his feet. “I could have, but then I’d have missed out on seeing you like this.”
“Lord, one of these days maybe you’ll catch me looking like”—I gesture to my body—“not this.”
“I like you like this,” he says confidently. I catch fire.
“You said something about dinner?”
“Yes, dinner. You like dinner, right? Jesus, of course you do. What I meant is, can I take you to dinner tonight before we meet everyone at Big Joe's?”
“Rest assured, Luke, I like all meals and food in general. Just in case your future self is ever curious about lunch or snacks or second breakfast.” He laughs at my Lord of the Rings reference, and the tension between us dissipates. We’ve gravitated toward one another, the air around us heats from his warmth.
“Have dinner with me?” He threads his fingers between mine. Our hands are such a juxtaposition. His are large and tanned; mine are small and pale. I can’t help noticing how easily they fit together, like puzzle pieces.
“Greer?” he asks again.
“Like a date?” I say. He pulls my hand, bringing our bodies nearly flush.
“Would that be okay with you if it were a date?”
“I’m okay with that. In fact, I was just having a debate with myself in the shower about what this was tonight. Is it just friends driving together, or did you see me as something else ? It all sounds so stupid saying it out loud.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid at all. And, just so we’re clear,”—his jaw clenches, voice husky—“I see you as something else. I meant what I said earlier. I want to know every. Single. Part. Of. You.”
“Okay,” I whisper, grinning, heat sizzling away any leftover anticipation under my skin.
“I know I said seven, but you about ready?”
“In a rush to take me out?” I lean into him.
“Yes.” His thumb brushes along the edge of my towel.
I take a step back, straightening my spine. “Give me thirty minutes. I’m almost ready.”
He nods his head and squeezes my hand before letting go. He backs down the sidewalk entry, his eyes descending so slowly it makes my toes curl. “I’m excited, G.”
“Me too,” I whisper, closing the door.
Turning, I lie back against the door, steadying my breathing and my body. Duke sits quietly to the side, having watched the whole exchange.
“C’mon, bud, let’s go make me presentable for my date.”
In the back of my mind, I see Brian watching me. I like to think he’d be smiling. When I was younger, you couldn’t have convinced me that this would be my life, reentering the dating field as a widow. Maybe whatever this is with Luke should feel stranger than it does. Maybe I should feel guilty at the timing of things. But I wasn’t lying when I told Luke I was excited about our date. I’m also a thousand other emotions, but excited tops my list.
“I hope you’re proud of me, Brian. Trying to put myself back out into the world.” Duke gives a small woof. “Okay, okay, I hear ya. I’m going.”
Approximately thirty minutes later, I’m staring at myself in my full-length mirror, unable to recognize the woman looking back at me. My hair is curled and swoops over my right shoulder. The black dress Mom and I found has a subtle lace detail across the bodice and is short enough to show a little leg. I even had a few extra minutes to polish my cowboy boots.
I look effervescent, brighter, different from the me I’d become used to seeing after the accident. It’s nice seeing a bit of my old self peering back at me. Well, maybe not exactly my old self. I won’t ever be her again, but I like who stares back at me now.
“C’mere, buddy, let’s go outside before I leave.”
Duke is out the door and in the yard running in circles before I can make it to the edge of the patio. The sun has begun to set, casting the yard in a shadowy haze. As I tend to do these days, I walk to my favorite spot and absorb the view in front of me. A kaleidoscope of reds, yellows, and purples explodes at the edge of my property where the preserve begins. The sea of wildflowers, finally in full bloom, paints the otherwise green landscape a vibrant canvas that beckons to be explored. I can’t wait for the day Luke takes me fishing out there.
Smoothing my hands down my dress, I feel a giant smile burst from within me. God, I forgot how good this feels. I feel topsy-turvy because I’m excited for something.
“Hey, gorgeous.” This time, I don’t spook at the sound of his voice.
When I swirl around, it’s my turn to be struck speechless. Luke is decked out in a pair of dark-wash, blue jeans; a black T-shirt; and cowboy boots. His hair is styled back in gentle waves I long to run my fingers through. It’s almost unfair how handsome he is.
“Hi,” I say on an exhale.
“You look,”—he hesitates, approaching slowly, like if he moves too fast, he’ll startle me away—“incredible.” He reaches for me and slides his hands around my waist. My arms automatically move up his chest and my hands lock around his shoulders. He brings me into him and buries his head in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply.
“I am beginning to think you have a thing for smelling people.” I bite my lip, giggling into this shoulder.
“Nah, I just have a Greer thing.” He squeezes me tighter, my heels lifting off the ground.
“Yeah, well, I have a Luke thing.” At my words, he pulls back to look me in the eyes, so close our noses nearly touch. He drinks me in. Every part of me, even the hidden ones, feel exposed. But this time, it’s a welcome feeling.
“You look really handsome.” I slide my hands down his shoulders and grip his biceps.
A sound rumbles from him. “We better go or else . . .”
“Or else what?” I ask playfully as he leads me to the patio.
Duke runs inside, and we close the sliding glass door. As we pass through my living room, I grab my purse. Then we’re back out the front door, crossing over to his driveway, where his truck waits. Luke’s hand remains a constant reassuring pressure on my low back.
He drives a dark, midnight-blue 4X4 truck, and it’s already running when we approach. A footboard pops out when he opens the door that I use to lift myself into the cab. As I’m buckling myself in, I glance over at Luke, his hand is utterly still on the door, eyes level with my legs.
“I might eat you up.” He groans.
Goosebumps erupt across my legs and crawl up my skin. I know my face is tomato-red.
“Luke,” I whisper.
A devilish smile sneaks past his careful composure as he closes my door and makes his way to the driver’s side. Luke jumps in and buckles his seat belt. Before I know it, he’s backing us out of the driveway and down our street. As he turns onto the highway, he slides the hand resting on the center console over my leg and rests it on my knee. I am electric.
“Is this okay?” He gestures with his chin to where his hand rests upon my thigh.
“Yes.” He tilts his forehead down in understanding before focusing on the road. I, however, am unable to focus on anything except his hand on my thigh, thumb rubbing small half circles. I focus only on that and don’t realize we’ve driven the distance to the restaurant in silence.
“Tacos!” I shout as we pull into the parking lot.
“You did say they were your favorite.”
“You working for bonus points?”
“I—no. I just wanted to . . .” I like it when he loses his words and gets flustered like this. Makes me feel not so alone. He pulls into a parking spot.
“No need to work for bonus points. You’ve already made quite an impression on me. Just be yourself.” I give him an encouraging smile.
The breath he takes causes his shirt to pull tighter around his shoulders. I don’t know if the sleeves are too small or if his biceps are too big. Either way, I’m happy to reap the visual benefits.
“Sweetheart, you gotta stop looking at me like that.” He groans as he squeezes my thigh.
“Y-yeah—okay, let’s eat,” I stutter out, shaking myself out of my Luke-induced haze.
His chuckle echoes in the truck’s cab as he jumps out. Just as I unbuckle myself and reach for my door, it opens, revealing Luke with his hand held out waiting for mine. I place my hand in his and climb down.
As he starts to let go of my hand, I link our fingers, catching him off guard.
“Is this okay?” I ask. His only response is a deep swallow and a nod. “Good.” I add a little pressure.
“Yeah?” he asks, opening the restaurant door.
“Mm-hmm. I find I like the feel of you, Luke.”
It’s a Friday night, which means most of the nice restaurants in town are busy. This is the only Mexican food place worth a damn, so we’re not shocked at the wait. After checking in with the hostess, Luke guides me outside to wait for our table. His arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me close—my back to his front.
“I like the feel of you too,” he whispers, his warm breath coasting over the shell of my ear.
Tangy salt sparks against my tongue as I sip on my second peach margarita. Luke’s hands wave all around as he tells a funny story about Hunter and him from their baseball days. The tequila settles under my skin, making me feel light and airy.
Dinner with Luke has been the most fun I’ve had in a long time. The restaurant is busy and loud, but in a surprising turn of events, I don’t mind. It is refreshing being out. Being in the middle of a crowded restaurant, enjoying time with a wildly interesting man. I’ve isolated myself away from the world for so long, telling myself it’s who I am. But I know it was a lie. I didn’t go out because I was afraid. Afraid to be and feel alone in a room full of people. With Luke, I don’t feel afraid, nor do I feel alone.
“I gotta warn you, G,” Luke says, “in our group we like to dance. You good with that?”
I give him the side-eye. “Don’t you worry about me.” Little does he know I love to dance. Whether I’m any good or not has yet to be determined. I’m the person you’ll find having a dance party in the middle of the pharmacy simply because they put on a banger of a tune.
We make the drive to the bar and spend several minutes trying to find a parking spot.
“Has this place always been this busy?” I ask. Seems like half the town decided to come out tonight.
“Tonight’s dance hall night, so it’s busier than normal.” With one hand, he maneuvers the steering wheel and backs his truck into the smallest parking space possible. My brain short-circuits.
“Dance hall night?” I put on a quick swipe of lip balm and stow my handbag in his glove compartment. He’s watching me intently, his handsome smile stretching from ear to ear. “What’s wrong?” I pat my hair and face. “Is there something on my face? In my teeth?”
“I like you in my truck.”
I reach over and squeeze his forearm. A memory blasts me out of nowhere.
His forearm is warm and sticky with blood. “Just hold on Brian. It’ll all be okay. They’ll be here soon. Just hold on until then. Okay? Just hold on.”
Tears flood my eyes as the image assaults my mind. I’ve had this memory so many times over the last year. I’ve memorized every detail. The blood dripping from the gash on his face onto the crisp white expanse of shirt. Music still pouring from the speakers even though everything around us is in pieces. My heart rate accelerates, knowing what happens next.
“G? What’s wrong?” Luke’s hushed voice breaks through the cacophony inside my head. “Are you okay?”
My eyes turn to his and come into focus as a few tears drip down my cheeks.
“Where did you just go?” he asks.
“That night.” I’m motionless.
“Still having flashbacks?” The rough texture of his voice is gentle, soothing.
“Not in a while.” I suck in a stuttering breath.
He turns to face me fully, bringing his hands toward my face. “Is this okay?”
I nod. Warm hands slide up my neck and cup my face. Using his thumbs, he strokes my cheeks and catches the tears trickling down my face.
“You’re okay, sweetheart. Just breathe.” I breathe in sync with him. “Good girl. Inhale. Exhale.” I sigh aloud at the reminder, smiling at Brian because he must have let Luke in on our little anxiety-reducing mantra.
“I’m sorry.” I close my eyes as the memory slides down my spine, leaving a cold trail in its wake.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I know. I’m still sorry though. They pop up out of nowhere, but I haven’t had one in a while.”
“What was it this time?”
I sink into my seat and lay my head back, feeling his eyes on me. “The doctors say I blacked out after the impact and that it’s possible I would never remember any of it. But I remember enough of it. I watched him die. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t know that. But I had suspicions.”
My eyes meet his. “What do you remember?”
“We’d never seen something like it before,” he says. “The damage to your car was . . . we thought there was no way anyone survived. But the woman who called 9-1-1 assured us someone inside was alive. We checked Brian first.” He pauses, judging my reaction. I nod for him to continue. “But he was already gone, so we focused on you. I remember you telling us get him first . You kept saying it over and over. By the time we got you out and into the back of the ambulance, you’d gone quiet. Even now, I can still see the desolate look on your face as we closed the ambulance doors.”
“It was the smell of gasoline that woke me up,” I say. “I was so confused and all I heard was screaming. I figured out later it was me. There was glass everywhere. I couldn’t really see well because my right eye was swollen, but I could see Brian behind the steering wheel. I tried moving, but I-I couldn’t. I was stuck. The only thing I could do, the only part of him I could reach was his forearm.” Luke touches his own forearm where my hand had been just moments before I had the flashback. “I was hurt badly. Brian tried to move, to get to me, but he couldn’t move either. I think he knew.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I was holding onto his forearm when he stopped breathing.”
The air in the cab is heavy with memories and grief. I knew we were going to have to talk about this someday. Little did I know, someday would be right now. Luke slides his hand onto my shoulder, and cups the back of my head.
“Thank you,” he says turning my face to his.
“For what?”
“For telling me all that.”
“You said you wanted to know all the parts of me.”
“I do.” He leans forward, my face a breath’s distance from his. “Do you want me to take you home?”
“You would do that?”
“I would do anything for you. Just tell me what you need.”
We’re quiet. Our foreheads braced together as we breathe in sync, each inhalation calming me further. When I open my eyes, Luke's worry-filled eyes stare back at me.
This man.
The old Greer would have jumped at the chance to escape, to hide in her cocoon. This version of Greer? The new one? She wants to be here with Luke, wants to spend time with her friends, wants to let others in.
“I would really like to not go home.” I shrug. He presses his lips against my forehead.
“Okay, sweetheart. Let’s go have some fun.”