Chapter 8
Then
It was the following Saturday, and luckily, I didn’t work in the kitchen at Delanie’s because tonight was the homecoming dance.
It was a warm day for September, and I was washing my car in the driveway, wearing cutoff shorts and a black tank top.
“This Kiss”
by Faith Hill was playing on my radio when I heard a motorcycle coming down the street.
I was squatting and scrubbing the tires when, from under the car, I saw that the motorcycle had pulled into our driveway.
When I stood, I saw it was…Michael.
Oh, shit, I thought.
I was a mess, and I hadn’t even showered.
Quickly, I looked at my face in the side mirror, only to confirm that I was a mess. My hair was loosely knotted on top, and I had no makeup on my face. Why couldn’t he show up four hours from now—when I’d be sexy-grunge?
“Hey, Jill,”
he said, swinging his leg off the bike, “Scott here?”
“No.
I’m not sure where he’s at.”
“You got a new bike?”
“Yes, I was wanting to show it to Scott.
But hey, since you’re here, I have something for you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.
I saw it the other day, which made me think of you.
So, I had to get it.”
Me? Something made him think of me? What on earth could it be?
He unbuckled the saddlebags and pulled out a plastic bag.
“Here, for you,”
he said, holding the bag.
I dropped the sponge into the bucket of water and walked around the car.
Why did I have to look like a mess every time in his presence? His smile was how I remembered—reserved for me.
At least, that’s what I liked to believe.
I opened the bag and pulled out a T-shirt.
“Read it,”
he said.
Unfolding the shirt, I read the caption.
Blondes Are the Prettiest.
I was dumbfounded and looked at him in disbelief.
“Ah…thank you, Michael.”
“I was hoping that by the time I saw you again, you wouldn’t have colored your hair.”
He remembered our conversation at the mall—me wanting to dye it black and how he told me not to mess with perfection.
And he thought of me.
“Well, since Scott isn’t here, you want to go for a ride?”
“Ah…sure,”
I said and looked down at myself.
“It’s not too cold.
But grab a jacket,”
he said, hopping back on the bike.
I turned off the key to my car, silenced the radio, and ran inside for a jacket.
Throwing on a light denim, I stopped by the hall entry mirror and worked like crazy to fix my hair.
But it was useless, and we were going for a motorcycle ride.
My hair would only get worse—and I didn’t care. I was going for a ride with Michael. I then ran back, changed into the T-shirt he bought me, and ran out with the denim jacket in my hands.
“It fits,”
I said, completing a circle with my arms up.
“Looks great on you.
Shorts are cute, too,”
he said.
But this time, when he said the word cute, it sounded different, and I felt the word sexy behind it.
He leaned the bike over, and I climbed on after wearing the denim jacket. “Ready,”
he said, and I had nowhere to put my hands but around his waist.
He started the bike, and we took off.
I was in Heaven, pressed against Michael, my arms around his waist and the wind tossing my hair wildly around.
Through the reflection of his side mirrors, I watched his rugged, handsome face staring straight ahead in pure perfection.
There wasn’t anything about Michael that wasn’t all man and gorgeous.
His square jaw was peppered with dark shadow, his lips pressed in a straight line, and his dark glasses made his face even more handsome.
I was in all my glory, and he was to me, all things man. The man I dreamed I would marry and have his children. Even at seventeen years old, I knew Michael would somehow be a significant part of my life. It would take years to figure out just how major his role would play havoc on my life.
The motorcycle slowed at the end of our street, and he leaned to turn the corner.
I pressed into his back and tightly squeezed my arms around him as the bike sped up and drove through town.
I wanted everyone to see me with him.
I enjoyed this day, this moment, to last forever.
And…sadly, it did. For each night after I closed my eyes, his image in that mirror and us on his bike repeated in my heart. I was forced to watch, rewind, and watch over and over. And each time, it became worse.
Michael circled the town a few times and then stopped at the drive-in.
“Do they have great Coney dogs here?”
he asked.
Was Michael asking for future reference? Or were he and I going to eat together? Like a date?
“Yes, they’re pretty good,”
I answered and did not attempt to dismount the bike.
Just in case he was asking.
“Awesome.
Would the prettiest blonde like to join me for Coney Dogs?”
I wasn’t in the least bit hungry and wasn’t sure I could eat a Coney dog in front of Michael, but I wouldn’t miss the chance of being with him.
So, I said, “Sure, sounds great.”
He leaned the bike over, and I slid off and tried to fix my now tangled hair.
I also pulled my shorts from the crack of my ass.
Michael kicked down the stand and parked the bike before dismounting.
Even though I knew I looked like a mess, I felt like Princess Diana walking beside Michael at the picnic table.
I sat first, and my heart leaped when he sat beside me and not across. His leg was touching mine, and the thought of moving a little crossed my mind. Did he want his leg touching mine? I left my leg where it was, making Michael decide to move. He didn’t.
April’s (blow-job-eyes) younger sister Amy worked at the drive-in and came out to take our order.
I hoped she would tell April that I was here with Michael—sitting next to Michael and riding on the back of Michael’s motorcycle.
“Oh, hey, Jill,”
Amy said, surprised to see me.
And I knew it was because I was with Michael.
“What can I get you guys?”
“This pretty blonde tells me you have great Coney dogs,”
Michael said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into him.
I tried not to appear stiff and act natural.
However, my body shook with excitement.
For one, I was in Michael’s arms.
Two, Amy would tell April, and three, everyone was looking at us.
I smiled into Michael’s eyes when he looked down at me.
I still couldn’t tell what his true intentions were.
Was I still just the cute little sister of a friend? Or was I becoming something more to him?
“Two Coney dogs,”
Michael said, and Amy took the order.
Michael’s arm was still around me when she walked back inside.
Amy turned around and looked at us again.
Yes, she was going to tell April.
“Does April like to ride?”
I asked, and he moved his arm.
“Who?”
Who? “April.
The sister of Scott’s girlfriend, Jen.”
“Oh.
April.
Um…I don’t know.”
I was happy he didn’t know because he never took her for a ride.
“I’ll find out tomorrow, though,”
he said, and my moment in Michael-cloud-number-nine deflated like a balloon.
But why hadn’t he remembered her name?
“So, you two are hanging out then?”
“Yeah, I guess she has Sunday off and said she’d stop by.
I’ll ask her then.”
I breathed in slowly, trying to regain the oxygen that left my lungs as my balloon cloud fluttered away.
“Well, make sure you remember April’s name,”
I said, faking a small laugh.
Amy returned with our Coney dogs, and I thought maybe I would casually mention that she was April’s younger sister.
Before she turned to go back inside, I said, “Hey, Michael, Amy is April’s other sister.”
I was hoping there would be a look of panic on his face.
Afraid that April would find out we were together.
But it didn’t seem to matter.
“Is that right? Now I see the resemblance in those gorgeous eyes of yours.
I love April’s eyes,”
he said, and I was sure it was because of the blow-job-look.
“Tell April I have a surprise for her tomorrow.”
Mentioning Amy was April’s sister had only backfired, and I was now angry with myself.
I was delusional again, thinking that maybe Michael was romantically interested in me.
I grabbed my hotdog when Amy asked if I was still attending homecoming tonight.
“Yes, Tammy and I are still going.”
“Oh, that’s right.
You two were shopping for the dance last week when I saw you at the mall.
Well, we better eat up so I can get you back in time to pretty yourself up for your date.”
“Who are you going with?”
Amy asked, and I wished I had a date to throw it in Michael’s face.
Though I don’t think he cared.
“Um, Tammy and I are just going alone.”
“What?”
Michael said with a mouthful of Coney dog.
“I can’t believe you don’t have a date.”
It hit me wrong, and I was going to defend my dateless ass.
“You think I couldn’t get a date,”
I said sarcastically.
“Tammy and I chose to go stag.”
“Oh, I see.
That’s cool.
I respect that—you don’t need a date or boyfriend to define you.
I find that honorable in you upcoming girls.”
He respected my wishes, which were only lies.
The truth was, I wanted a date.
I wanted a date with him.
I wanted him to be my boyfriend, and now he would think I would never be interested.
No matter what I said or did, I was losing.
“If you wanted a date, I’d happily take you to the dance.
I have nothing going on tonight.”
Was he asking? I stopped chewing and forgot how to swallow.
What should I do? If I said yes, he would know I was lying.
Because I didn’t think I could compose the excitement running through me.
Also, Tammy would be mad and think I was ditching her and our plans.
I so did want him to take me. No matter what his reason was—a favor for brother’s little sister, or maybe because he was interested in me. And he was asking in front of Amy, which meant April would find out.
“But that’s cool.
I understand,”
Michael said and went back to his Coney dogs.
The opportunity was over, and I had lost my chance.
If only I could go back in time—the last five minutes.
I’d be going with Michael on a date.
I slowly swallowed my food and gave the worst thank you ever.
“Well, thanks for asking.”
I hoped he would ask again and I would accept his offer with some hesitation.
But not too much.
He looked at his watch and then crammed the rest of his Coney dogs in his mouth.
Now, on anyone else, it would seem appalling.
But not on Michael.
He wiped his face with the napkin, stood, and reached for my hand.
“I better get you home.”
I took the last bite and then took his hand. “Yes,”
I said, but I wanted to stay with him and do…whatever.
The dance was no longer my priority, and I even thought of telling him I would skip it and hang out if he wanted.
Then, I thought of Tammy.
He started the bike, and I climbed on, wrapping my arms again around his waist, and loved the warmth between us.
The motorcycle was loud, and everyone watched as we pulled out and took off down the street.
Maybe when we got home, I would change my mind and say he could take me.
He pulled into our drive, and I climbed off.
“Thanks for the ride and the Coney dogs.”
“Hey, no problem.
Have a great time with your friend at the dance,”
he said and winked as he pushed the bike backward out of the drive and took off down the street.
I listened as the sound of his bike became faint and felt the ache in my heart.
I missed him and couldn’t understand why he possessed my soul.
Mom was in the kitchen when I walked in and hollered.
“Is that you, Jill?”
“Yes, Mom.”
She came walking out with a towel in her hands.
“Where’d you go? Tammy called about an hour ago.
She sounded urgent and wanted you to call her back right away.”
“Did she say why?”
“No.
I just said you weren’t around, and I would have you call when you got back.
Where’d you go? Your car was in the drive?”
“Michael stopped by.
He was looking for Scott and gave me a ride on his new bike.”
She eyed me suspiciously, and I knew what that meant.
“We just went to the drive-in.”
Her look didn’t change, and she was already reading the look on my face.
“He wanted to get Coney dogs.
That’s all.
It’s not like we ran away to get married.”
As soon as I said it, she knew how I felt.
I could never hide my true feelings with her.
“Whatever,”
I said and went to call Tammy back.
“Hey, Tammy.
Mom said you called?”
“Yeah,”
she said, and I could tell something was behind it.
“Okay, here’s the thing.”
I knew it.
“I know we said we would go stag, but Ryan Foster called and asked if I would go with him.”
Ryan Foster was the guy she had a crush on since the third grade.
I knew she wanted to go with him but feared I’d be upset.
I thought the same thing when Michael asked if he could take me.
How ironic.
“So…do you mind?”
“Um, actually, I was asked too…by Michael.”
However, I was stupid and turned him down.
Maybe I could call him?
“NO!”
“Well, he did ask.
If I had known Ryan called you, I would have accepted.
But no, that’s great.
Go with Ryan.
Maybe I’ll call Michael.”
But I didn’t have his number, and Scott wasn’t home.
“Are you sure?”
I could tell she felt bad for asking, but this would give me an opportunity or more of an excuse to accept Michael’s offer.
“I’m positive.
We will throw this party down tonight when you walk in with Ryan and me with Michael.
Let’s do it.”
And that was all it took.
She squealed and hung up the phone.
Now, how do I get hold of Michael?