10. Everett
CHAPTER TEN
Everett
THEN
“ Parlez-vous anglais ?”
“Purrr—”
“ Par —”
“Okay, this shit is hard.”
We’re interrupted by a sharp shushing sound, and Teeny giggles.
“ Parlez-vous ,” Teeny repeats, keeping her voice in a low library voice. She peeks a glance at the librarian who’s keeping a watchful eye on us after she’d shushed us for the fourth time.
“Purrrr-lay?—”
Another set of giggles erupts from Teeny, but this time she muffles them using the sleeve of her sweater. “You sound like someone who’s really badly imitating a cat.”
“Can we take a break?”
“We just started,” she argues. “Plus, lunch is only thirty-five minutes.”
“How about we try again after school?” I offer.
She nods. “You want to come over to my house?”
“Sure,” I answer a little regretfully, inwardly hoping I’d be able to lure her away somewhere more private without the inquisitive eyes of her parents. The truth is that since our kiss at the party a week ago, I haven’t had a moment to talk to Teeny. We’ve always been around Josh or the entire varsity team or a grouchy librarian. “Come on,” I whisper, leaning close to her. “I have a book I want to check out.”
“Oh, okay.”
She follows me, leaving our backpacks at the table, and we stop when we reach an empty aisle just around the corner.
“What book are you looking for?”
I huff a shy laugh. “I actually wanted to just talk to you without the warden interrupting us.”
She laughs, her nose scrunching with amusement. Blood rushes to the apples of her cheeks, and it’s disarming. The charming way she smiles with her whole face travels all the way down to my stomach where butterflies take flight.
I take a step closer to her, forcing her back against a wall of books. My hand moves to rest atop a shelf right at level with the top of her head, and I lean down and kiss her. She responds with a sharp gasp and tilts her face up toward me, letting me explore her mouth.
Kissing Teeny feels like everything around me disappears. I don’t feel the weight of being the newest member of the basketball team, trying to find my place within a roster that’s already formed and established, or the awkwardness that follows whenever I walk through the hallways of a school that still feels too new and uncharted. In the midst of fluttering heartbeats and the rampant butterflies in my gut, I feel calm. Almost serene.
My hand slides down her arm, trailing to the inside of her wrist where I feel her pulse racing behind her soft skin. It feels rapid, almost erratic and fitful.
The bell rings and we pull apart. Instead of pushing me away, Teeny leans her forehead into my chest. I cup the back of her head with my palm and nuzzle my nose into my hair.
“So, the beach wasn’t a fluke.”
She peers up at me with a conflicting look of amusement and confusion, and a small smile twitching at her lips. “What do you mean?”
“I just thought that maybe…the second kiss couldn’t be just as good, but I was wrong.” I kiss her again, swift and fleeting, knowing we have about two-and-a-half minutes before we need to get to fifth period. “And I’m not getting sand in my shirt.”
She giggles, finally pushing me away and leading the way back to our table. I follow her, and we hook our backpacks over our shoulders. “I’ll see you after school, Hayes.”
* * *
As soon as I ring the bell at Teeny’s front door, I hear the sound of urgent pitter-patter on the other side. The door swings open, and I’m greeted by someone who isn’t Teeny but shares her bright smile.
“Hey, Andrew.”
“Everett!” Andrew squeals.
He tugs at my hand, dragging me inside. I follow, closing the door behind me, and when I walk into the living room, I find that it’s complete chaos. There are sprinkles of snacks strewn all over the floor. Teeny’s brothers, and some other guys I don’t recognize, are scattered throughout the large sectional couch, and they’re all cheering and shouting at the screen where a soccer game is on full blast.
“Everett!” Josh calls from the floor, a Barq’s root beer held firmly in his hand. Andrew joins him, grabbing his own can while mimicking his older brother. “Sit down! We have lots of food.”
Teeny comes bounding down the steps, rushing to my side. “Change of plans,” she says, squeezing my forearm. “We need to get out of here. James came down with his friends, and they’ve been at it for the last hour. I don’t think it’s going to let up anytime soon.” She looks annoyed and flustered as she starts to guide me back to the front door. “Some UEFA soccer thing with Barcelona and Westchester.”
“MANCHESTER!” a collective round of angry voices calls after Teeny, correcting her in unison.
She looks at me like she’s plotting their murder before she reaches for the keys hanging from a small hook near the doorway. “Josh! I’m taking the car!”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. She hooks her backpack that was sitting on the floor over her shoulder and shoves her feet in her shoes before walking out the door without a glance back. “I feel like I can finally hear my own thoughts,” she says with a sigh once we walk outside where it’s much quieter. Her loose hair frames her round face, and she presses her hands to her temples, showing how she was seconds away from losing her mind inside that house. A smile finally peeks through her heart-shaped lips when she sees me holding back a laugh.
“How are your parents able to handle all that noise?”
“They aren’t home,” she explains, turning to her car parked in the driveway. “They went to some dinner thing, which is probably why it’s that loud in there. I don’t think they could pull that off if my mom was home.”
I take her bag off her shoulder and let it dangle from my fingers. “So where are we going?”
“Hungry?” she asks, all evidence of her aggravation gone with the suggestive smile on her face.
“Yeah.”
“Well, come on, Hayes,” she calls, skipping to the driver’s seat of her car.
I hop into the passenger seat, settling her backpack at my feet, and we buckle up. Teeny pulls out of the driveway. With her focus on the road ahead, I’m able to take her in, no longer surrounded by loud noise and angry teenage boys. She’s wearing white shorts, cut off mid-thigh, exposing the warm skin tone of her legs. The tank top she’s wearing is a bright blue color, and it shows off the sharp curves of her shoulder, the edges blending in with the lines of her shoulder blades. Her hair is down and a little wavy and damp, like she showered recently, though not too recently with the added bounce to the ends.
She flicks at the radio with her fingers, her nails painted a lavender color, and she stops at a station when she hears a song she’s familiar with. I sit back, listening to her hum while she turns down winding roads driven through memory.
“Did you bring all your review stuff?”
“No, I thought I’d wing it,” I tell her, a sarcastic tone in my voice. “You know, by the coattails of my badly pronounced French words and your tutoring skills.”
She peers at me with a quirked eyebrow. That’s when I pry open my French textbook and whip out the study guide Mrs. Fix passed out last week.
“Okay, smart ass.” She pulls to a stop in a small parking lot that has a liquor store, a small sandwich shop that’s closed for the night, and a hole-in-the-wall diner.
“What is this place?” I ask, stepping out to meet her at the hood of the car.
Teeny links her arm through mine and guides me through the door, the words “Marie’s Diner” elegantly painted in cursive across the glass. “They have the best hazelnut waffles. And Coke floats. Unless you’re too cool for that kind of stuff.”
I scoff, expelling a loud “pshhh” through my teeth. “Never too cool for ice cream and soda.”
We’re shown to a booth seat where we place our study material on the wood grained table. I sit directly across from Teeny as she politely orders for us, and we start to open our textbooks and highlighters. It isn’t crowded inside, which is slightly surprising considering it’s dinnertime, but it draws in less attention as Teeny and I start to pour over our study guide.
“So, I think we should start with the vocabulary words,” she says, her gaze zeroing in on the stapled stack of papers in front of her. “I’m still struggling with some of the words.”
“You?” I ask suspiciously.
“Yeah, why?”
“I highly doubt that,” I tell her, folding over my notebook to a fresh page. “Didn’t you get like ninety-four percent on the last vocab test?”
“Ninety-six, but that’s not important,” she tells me, brushing off my skepticism. “The new list of words for this chapter are freaking hard!”
“God forbid your GPA drops half a point.”
She shoves at my shoulder from across the table. “Whatever,” she teases. “Like you aren’t sailing through calculus with flying colors.”
I shrug. “I prefer numbers over words.”
“I guess we each have our strengths.”
We’re interrupted by the arrival of our drinks, and we gently push our things aside.
“Moment of truth.” Teeny nudges my Coke float closer to me with her index finger and a wide grin. “If you don’t like this, I don’t think this is going to work. I couldn’t handle that kind of difference of opinion in someone I consider a friend.”
I push away the inkling in my head that’s causing me to flip through all the reasons why Teeny calling me a friend suddenly seems inaccurate. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Are you saying you can’t handle the heat?”
I reach for the frosty glass, the bubble of soda mixing with the ice cream overflowing the rim, and take a long sip. “Oh my god,” I say with a gasp.
“See?”
“Oh my god,” I repeat myself.
Teeny’s cheeks turn rosy with a gleeful laugh.
“Seriously. Why didn’t you bring me here sooner?”
“I am a lady, Everett. I don’t bring just anyone to my favorite dessert spot. You have to earn your place in this booth with me.”
I take another long, drawn-out sip. “Seriously. This could resolve all war and conflict in the world. Imagine every world leader meeting over a round of Coke floats from Marie’s Diner. They’ll forget what they’re even fighting about.”
She laughs a loud and delighted cackle. The server brings us our waffles, and I turn to face her. “Are you aware these Coke floats could establish world peace?”
The waitress looks at me with a peeved and confused scowl.
“I’m sorry,” Teeny interjects. “It’s his first time.”
One quick smile before she slips away, and I inhale the rest of my drink. “Are the waffles just as good?”
“I personally think they’re the best waffles in the world.”
“How can you know that? Have you tried every single waffle in existence?”
“I don’t need to. I just know.”
I look at her with skepticism while she reaches for a fork and hands it to me. “I’ll let you decide.”
“Ladies first, lady,” I say, putting my hand up in refusal.
Teeny takes the opportunity to jab into the waffle, tearing off a large chunk, and she angles it toward me. “Try it.”
“You’re giving me the first bite?”
She nods.
“I feel so honored.”
She jabs the fork in a stabbing motion. “Just take it before I change my mind.”
I take it in one bite, and Teeny waits patiently while I chew and swallow. “Jeez, Teen. You’ve really been hiding this place this whole time?”
She tears off another chunk, and before it can make it to her, I steal it right off her fork. “Hey!” she protests.
“I have no control over my actions right now,” I say through a mouthful. “Blame it on the Coke float if you want, but all I can say is you better get your share before I eat this whole thing.”
“Absolutely not!” Teeny pulls the plate closer, drawing up a protective shield with her elbow before she takes a large bite. One that’s twice as big as the one she gave me. “ Yuf ha enuh !”
She looks like this aggressive little chipmunk with her mouth full and an angry, determined scowl furrowing her brow. And when I break out into an uncontrolled fit of laughter, she does too. Bits of food spray from her mouth. My stomach starts to cramp at the same time my vision blurs from a misty wave of tears.
“Okay,” I surrender. “I’m ordering my own.” I flag the server down. She looks a little wary when she approaches our table, taking in Teeny as she continues to protect her waffle from an untrustworthy dinner companion. “Can I order another one of these?” I ask, gesturing a hand to the half-eaten waffles. “And another Coke float?”
“Sure.”
“You are going to be bouncing off the walls with all that sugar.”
“Well,” I tell Teeny. “I guess it’ll help me power through this study guide.”
* * *
After four hours of verb conjugation and terminology memorization, we call it a night. My cheeks and stomach ache with a kind of muscle memory that’s different from what I’m used to. Like the slight twinge in my jaw that serves as a reminder of how I almost toppled off my seat when Teeny told me about the time Josh got chased by a chicken when he was six. Or the subtle pang that hits my abdomen when I remember how red Teeny’s face grew laughing over my own mishap with a rogue squirrel.
We’ve pulled up into Teeny’s driveway where the noise on the inside seems to have died down. Teeny puts her car in park and starts gathering her hair, securing it with a hair tie that was fastened to her wrist. I watch her, eyeing the fluid movements of her hands and her slender neck, when I see a smear of bright orange paint behind her ear.
“Do you paint?”
“Hmm?” she asks with a confused tilt of her head.
I reach up to run my finger over the paint stain, feeling for a second how soft her skin is. “You got some paint here.”
Her hand immediately clamps over the spot, and she smiles sheepishly. “I do.”
“Like, for fun? Or do you have a side job painting houses?”
“No.” She laughs. “I paint…stuff.” I stay quiet, silently asking for her to elaborate. Instead of answering, she opens the car door. “Come on, Hayes.”
I exit the car, following her lead to the garage. She opens the door off to the side where it meets the fence dividing our two homes and flicks on the overhead light. Once she takes a few more steps in, she turns on another light, this one much brighter. When I look around, I see an entire makeshift studio. There’s an easel sitting in one corner with a canvas tarp lying under it. A small boombox stereo is plugged in on a desk where paint brushes sit haphazardly in a ceramic vase. Various tubes of acrylic paint in different stages of fullness cover the rest of the space on the desk, and a wooden stool is tucked underneath it.
“This is my studio.” Teeny stands off to the side of the easel where a canvas painting rests. There’s some distorted drawing of shapes and colors that lean toward an image of a shore with sand and a water’s edge. “It’s not finished,” Teeny adds when she watches me take in the drawing. “Far from it, actually. But I’m working on this and a few other pieces for an art show at a really small local gallery.”
I start to pay more attention to the colors she used. Bright fuchsia, lavender, navy, golden yellow. All colors that don’t necessarily blend well together, but when thrown together through brush strokes and thick smears of paint, it creates this glowing sunset with Del Mar Heights as the backdrop.
“You did this?” I finally ask.
She nods, her head moving up and down in a hesitant movement of reserve. “I have a few more, but they’re in my room.”
I peer over at Teeny with my fingers hovering over the painting where there are abstract shapes of squares and lines with a bold “18” stamped on it. “This lifeguard tower…”
Teeny nods. “It’s that beach we went to.”
“And you painted it?”
She takes a slow cautious step closer to me and runs her fingers along the dried bumps and ridges of paint. “To most, it’ll look like any San Diego beach. The water and the sand and even the lifeguard tower look pretty generic. It’s the details that only I notice, and probably you. Like the number on the tower and those darker spots in the sand.” She pauses to point them out, and when I take a closer look, I can see that they’re footprints. “They’re at the water’s edge following a path to dryer sand. Like when we were there.”
I take it in, the details, the secret moments brushed onto the canvas that mean something to us. All of it. And I can feel Teeny watching me. Like she’s waiting for my approval.
“This is amazing,” I finally say.
“Yeah?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She smiles, a soft smile that’s shy and gentle. “I’m glad you like it.”
I turn, looking away from the painting to face her, and take a slow step toward her. “How come you never told me you paint like this?”
She shrugs. “I guess it never came up.”
I reach my hand to cup her face, and my thumb strokes back and forth from her jaw to her neck where her pulse beats frantically. Her lids flutter at the same time a soft sigh squeezes through her lips, and her body sags into me. Watching her become pliant in my hands, all slack and weak, has me feeling the same. Like I’m putty in her hands and I’d do whatever she wants.
“You want to kiss me again, don’t you?” she asks softly. The warmth of her breath tickles my cheek, and our lips play this little game of tango, moving around each other in a teasing motion.
“Yeah,” I whisper back. “I do.” And before she can say anything else, I grip her face in my hands and kiss her. I kiss her like I’m hungry. She takes a small step backward, and I stumble with her. Her butt perches at the edge of the desk, grounding herself to something more solid than the electricity making both of our hands frantic and shaky, and I take that moment to lean my entire body into her. I notice her hand reach back, planting it on the hard surface for leverage. And the way her body trembles a little, I feel it when I softly grip her knee, and it shakes in my hand. I pull away and look at her. She looks like with every sharp gasp, she’s trying to catch her next breath, only for it to fall short and keep her breathless.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
She nods. “Things just got a little…intense.” A small smile cracks the nerves that are so apparent on her face, and it feels like she’s trying to give me something other than unease through an appeasing smile. “Sorry.”
“Teeny, no,” I say urgently. I take a step back, giving her space, but she follows, eyeing me with worry. Like I might be upset or mad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Her hand reaches for my arm. “You didn’t,” she assures. “This is all just really new to me. I’ve never had, like, a boyfriend, and I guess I just want to make sure I’m doing things right. I’d hate to disappoint you.”
I chuckle. “You’re not disappointing me, Teen. Not even close.”
She tugs at my hand, and I look at her, both of us wearing silly, bashful smiles. “Really?” she asks shyly, though a hint of excitement shines through when her eyes light up, and her smile widens into a relieved grin.
I nod. “Really.”
She nods too.
“But I don’t want to keep doing this if you’re not?—”
“I am,” she interrupts. “I’m okay with it. I just needed a moment. That’s all.”
I tilt my head to the side, studying her.
“Really,” she adds. “It’s just…is it normally like this?”
I already know the answer to her question, but I play dumb. “Like how?”
“Like…when I kiss you, I get…” She pauses, searching for her next words. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ve never felt?—”
“No.”
“No?”
I shake my head. “No,” I answer. “It’s never like this.”