Chapter Eight
Susie
He nods at me. Studies me with those dark, unfathomable eyes. Does he remember me? Does he remember the little girl who ran to him while he was lying in the ditch that day? And I gave him candy, of all things?
Maybe I hope he doesn’t remember me, because now, nine years later, I realize how silly it was to give a bleeding person candy, insisting he needed it.
“I see you like the pizza.”
What a stupid, inane thing to say. I need to get that silly young girl out of my head. If I’m trying to engage him in conversation, to say anything, I’ll need to do better than you like pizza.
Of course, he says nothing as he devours the pizza like a grizzly bear eating a mouse. The pizza didn’t stand a chance. I slant a glance at Dane, and he’s talking to some guys down the other end of the table, or rather shouting.
Turning back to Bryan, for whatever reason, call it old times’ sake, I need to get a rise out of him.
“So how are the crops this year?”
He raises his brow, and now I can see that twitch in his mouth. It’s an unmistakable almost-smile. He’s definitely amused, if still silent.
“What do you grow? On your farm?” I ask.
“Not tobacco.”
He’s so uninterested in talking that he takes another sip of his beer.
I shrug. “Okay. I give up. I’ll stop trying to have a conversation with you since you so clearly are not interested.”
Then lo and behold, his eyes intensify, and I swear he’s about to say something, but Liz bumps into me from behind.
“Sorry.”
She bends down and looks between us, a sloppy grin on her face, and I smell beer and something else. It smells like hard liquor. I recognize the smell from… her father the few times I’ve met him.
I whisper, “I thought you weren’t going to drink when you saw Bryan?”
She ignores me as she puts her arms around us, drawing us into a huddle, dragging me close enough to Bryan so that his scent overpowers the alcohol on Liz. He smells like soap and musky sweat and pizza.
“You two getting along? You behaving nice to my girl, Bry?”
She holds her grin and winks at him.
“You’re drunk, Liz.”
His voice is flat, but I can sense his disappointment.
She leans in close to him, and I hold my breath, but he doesn’t back away. “I’m only tipsy, I promise.”
Liz sounds like a guilty child and crosses her heart, trying to look serious.
Bryan snorts, “Splitting hairs.”
He tosses me an accusing look like I’m supposed to be her keeper.
“I’m going to the ladies’ room,”
Liz stumbles as she straightens up, and I rise to follow her. She throws up a hand to stop me. “No. Leave me alone.”
I stop mid-motion, in shock because that’s the first time I’ve heard Liz speak to me—or anyone—like that. She takes off without turning back, not even a smile to soften her belligerent tone.
Maybe she’s embarrassed because she didn’t keep her promise not to get drunk in front of Bryan. He clearly doesn’t like it. I’m guessing it’s because she throws herself at him. But that’s his problem, not mine. It’s my turn to give him an accusing look. He appears unaffected, but I’d bet anything he’s hiding whatever he feels. Because obviously he feels something.
“Don’t mind her. She’s only tipsy,” he says.
“Ha ha.”
I make sure he hears my sarcasm and wave a hand around the table. “Everyone here is tipsy.”
“Not you.”
A slight impression shows at one corner of his mouth, and I think it might even be a smile. Holy shit.
I force my mouth to stay firmly flat because why should he smile at me now when he never smiles, when Liz has stalked—or stumbled—off and I’m giving him this almost mean look? I sit and double down on the accusation in my expression, furrowing my brows so hard it affects my vision.
The slight curve of his mouth still only hints at his amusement, and he leans in. “I heard they call you princess.”
His words are quiet as they rumble from deep in his throat, reaching my ears like a crescendo and making me vibrate.
I scoff even as I practically palpitate with nerves. Because I think he may be flirting. “More like ex-princess.”
Shit. “Not that I ever was a princess. And not that it’s any of your business,”
I add, and I don’t remember when I’ve felt this awkward, or so confused that I’ve lost whatever reticence I’m supposed to have with a stranger.
No, not a stranger. He’s that boy I helped when we were kids, the one who I still have dreams about sometimes, whenever something disturbs me, like the upheaval of my life last winter.
Stranger or not, my knee-jerk honesty in his presence has to stop. I don’t owe him my life story when he hardly says a word about his. I don’t care if he’s so real and authentic that I can see him down to the raw bone. And how is it possible that at the same time, he’s so unreachable?
He doesn’t frown, but the tease of his dimple disappears and his interest picks up. Please don’t ask. Please leave it alone. I beg him with my expression, trying to hide myself, and at the same time trying not to lose my cool.
“What makes you an ex-princess? Don’t tell me you’re down and out.”
“Why not? Why can’t my family be hit by the recession like everyone else’s?”
His amused expression returns when he should be ashamed or apologetic or something.
“No reason. But I think the princess state of mind goes deeper than a few extra bucks.”
“Really? I hate to tell you that my state of mind—princess or not—has been rattled straight down to my bones and I feel like… “ Shit. I don’t even know why or how to explain how I feel. Displaced? Out of my element? Insecure? Worried. Afraid.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?”
The rumble in his voice deepens as he moves closer, his expression changing, intensifying, moving almost to concerned but stopping short at curious, possibly disbelief.
“Is that so hard to believe? My dad is having a hard time finding a new job, and we may have to sell the house. The only jobs are on the West Coast for less money, and if my parents leave Connecticut, my tuition will go up and?—”
“Woah. Slow down, Princess. I believe you.”
The words poured out of me, leaving me breathing heavy. Why should I tell him things? I haven’t talked about my fears with anyone else, not my parents, not even Liz. So why do all those scary emotions spout out of me now to him, like an overdue geyser? I’m sharing all my worst fears with a boy who’s a mystery from my past, a ghostly dream come back to haunt me.
His arm goes around my shoulder, sparking my fragile nerves, and I jerk away at the sudden closeness, shivering like I’ve felt that ghost. Or maybe it’s physical excitement that shudders through me. The idea almost makes me smile, almost makes me lean into him for more—until I remember Liz.
“Let’s go outside and get some air.”
He stands and takes my hand, forcing me to rise with him or pull away. I don’t have it in me to pull away. I need to talk to him about our first meeting, for him to tell me he remembers, to ask him all those questions I never had a chance to ask him, to find out what happened to him.
He says something to Eldy and then leads me to the back door a few steps away, and we step outside into the night, lit by a single bulb and the stars. He leans against the building and pulls me into his arms against him. My heart thunders with the contact, so intimate and foreign and yet so compelling and natural that I don’t consider backing away.
“What are you doing?”
I ask, somehow keeping the nerves from my voice.
“Getting to know you. Isn’t that what Liz wants?”
I frown in confusion, and he lets out a derisive chuckle.
“Don’t worry, Princess, you’re safe with me. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do.”
I try to step back, and he stops me, defying his own words. I arch my brow.
“Do you really want to go back inside?”
he whispers, caressing my back with a large hand, moving it up and down slowly like I’m a skittish animal that needs settling.
Technically, I suppose I am, and that makes me smile. “No, but I’m not out here to make out with you either.”
“Then how about just a kiss?”
He lowers his voice and lowers his head so that his breath tickles the hair at my temples. “One innocent test.”
“Test?”
I murmur, wondering how innocent a kiss from him could be because I already feel guilty as sin. And yet?—
“I think you’re beautiful. I like your princess attitude and your expressive eyes, especially the gold specks and how deep they are. I like how serious you are compared to the other girls.”
He draws in a deep breath, and I hold mine. “Most of all, you turn me on.”
I tighten up. “What about Liz?”
The words come from somewhere not attached to my brain because I can’t think. Maybe from my guilty conscience. Am I going to let the guy she has a massive crush on kiss me, even if it’s an innocent test kiss?
“I’m not with Liz. And I never will be.”
I suck in his words and feel a pang for Liz.
He takes my speechlessness as permission and lowers his mouth to mine, hot and strong, as he kisses me—a real kiss, no minor test, hard and intimate like he’s trying to start something, like he wants a whole hell of a lot more than a kiss.
It’s a kiss like I’ve never felt before, the kind that makes me float away. Clearly, I’ve lost my mind. Todd never made me feel this way for one second.
His mouth travels to my jaw and my ear, and he nibbles on my earlobe, nearly collapsing my knees and making me shiver. Then he slowly pulls back, heaving a breath, and I immediately step backwards in shock.
Then he smiles.
* * *
We go back inside in silence and reclaim our seats like nothing ever happened. He gives me a sad smirk and lounges back in his chair. Now outside his orbit, I feel the change in atmosphere like a cold sucking draft. Glancing away to hide my self-consciousness, I don’t know what to do with all my feelings or how to hide them. I notice Liz walking back in our direction, looking refreshed, less flushed, like she splashed cold water on her face. Maybe I should do that.
His eyes stay on me. “You seemed like you could use a friend.”
I meet his stare, and the bottom falls out of my gut at the raw understanding in his eyes and the truth in his voice, like he means it, like he gets me. Shit. It’s like he wants to give me something rare and free and the exact thing I’m starved for—a confidant who understands and doesn’t judge and who?—
“I … it’s not that…”
Guilt piles on top of all my other feelings with Liz approaching.
Liz reaches us, standing directly behind me and staring at Bryan, her friend. And all of a sudden, I get it. I get what he means to her and why she wants him. He’s the person who knows all the worst things about her and accepts her for who she is and understands completely. They have a bond, a connection from having survived something terrible. And I’m not sure how deep the terribleness or the connection is.
“We haf to go now, Soosie. I don’t feel too good.”
Her words are slurred worse than before. So much for looking refreshed.
He frowns at her. “You’re not driving, Liz.”
“I can drive. I tole you, I?—”
“No. I’ll drive you?—”
“What about my carrr?”
“I could drive it,”
I say. Bryan is right. Liz shouldn’t drive.
“You’re okay to drive?”
He eyes me like he’s not sure.
“I had less to drink than you did.”
“I ate more pizza.”
His mouth quirks the tiniest bit, but he manages to remain serious.
“I’ll drive Liz home in her car, and we’ll be fine.”
I turn to Liz, and she rolls her eyes.
“Fine. Play the hero if you wannu.”
She grins, and whatever belligerence she had ran out. My shoulders relax. “I trus you to drive me.”
Bryan stands, slips some money from his pocket, and throws it at the table in front of Dane. Dane’s busy flirting with Sherry. I’d feel a pang leaving her with the so-called player, but I don’t think he’s as bad as Judy claims. I stand, ready to go.
Dane notices the money and looks up at Bryan. “You leaving?”
He picks up the bills, two fives, and proceeds to stuff them into Bryan’s jeans pocket before Bryan has a chance to move away. He pushes his friend’s hand away, but doesn’t escalate, giving Dane one of those we’ll settle this later expressions.
“Your money’s no good here,”
Dane says, tossing Bryan his keys. “I’ll get a ride. You don’t need to walk home.”
Bryan takes the keys and nods.
“You were going to walk?”
I ask as he herds me and Liz toward the door like he doesn’t trust me to get her out the door on my own. I wonder again about his relationship with her. Why was he near Liz’s house that day I found him in the ditch?
He doesn’t answer me about walking home. Big surprise. We get outside, and Liz leans on me heavily as we head to the car.
“I’m tired,”
she says. When she yawns, I do too.
“Are you sure you’re not too tired to drive?”
Bryan asks me.
“Yes. I mean no, I’m fine.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s only a five-minute drive.”
I sound like a petulant child, but he’s acting like my parents, or like a big brother. Or maybe just a good friend. But that’s impossible since he’s barely an acquaintance. And he acted like a guy interested in a whole lot more than friendship when we were outside.
I shudder with remembered excitement. It’s enough to overshadow my disappointment that he didn’t tell me that he recognized me from the ditch incident. But maybe it doesn’t matter because that was so long ago. Maybe it only mattered to me.
He nods. When we reach Liz’s car, he pauses with his hand on the door handle to let Liz in, and stares at me. “Call me when you get back.”
He rattles off his number as if I’m going to remember it.
I force myself to concentrate because no way in hell am I going to ask him to write it down. I repeat the phone number to myself while I stare into the depths of his dark eyes, like black bear eyes, not the nice chocolate lab eyes Liz talked about.
They look hard and dangerous. I shudder involuntarily, and I can’t, god help me, blame it on fear. That leaves only one other emotional reaction that I know of that would cause such a shudder.
Excitement.
Shit, no.
After he helps Liz into the passenger seat, he comes around the car with me and opens the driver’s side door like he’s a valet. I get in without a word. Liz is already slumped in her seat. He backs away, watching as I start the car and pull out of the parking space. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I see him standing there motionless, still watching as I turn out of the parking lot and drive out of sight.
“He’s so…”
I don’t know what to say.
Eyes still closed, Liz says, “Yeah. I know what you mean.”
She pats my leg and I turn to the road. She adds, “Thas why I love him.”
Her words make me flinch, and I glance over at her. She looks like she’s sleeping with a smile on her face.
But she reaches up and squeezes my arm. “Thank you for being a good friend, Sooosie.”
I drive us in silence the rest of the way back to the dorm because I’m gripped with a strange mix of guilt and confusion, excitement and contentment.
When I drop Liz off at the dorm, one of the girls on our floor helps her to our room while I go back to park her car in the student lot. Walking back, on my way down the hill from the lot, a chill makes me shudder, and I decide to run, not sure if I’m feeling cold or vulnerable. Or maybe it’s still that strange uneasy mix of tension.
Breathless when I reach the door, I collect myself before I go inside the dorm. I don’t know why I bother since no one’s here, and when I reach our room, Liz is out cold, fully clothed on top of her bed covers. I take her sandals off and then turn on the fan, postponing my call to Bryan.
Do I really owe him a call? Yes. He’s a friend, Liz’s friend, who wants to be reassured. He’s a worrier. Like someone much older. Like someone’s older brother.
I scoff out loud at that thought because I’m not deluded enough to let myself believe I feel he’s actually brother-like, or anything but a compelling guy with a caring protective streak wider than a football field. And that threatens to melt me.
For the millionth time, I wonder again what he was doing in the ditch near Liz’s house that day. This time I stave off the chilling speculation that he was there to protect Liz—from her father.
Commanding my hand not to shake as I reach for the phone, I pluck his number from my recent memory where it’s waiting, fresh and alive and prominent—now unforgettable—and dial it. With the receiver clamped to my ear and the phone ringing, I extend the cord and slip outside our room, closing the door as far as it’ll go behind me. It’s dark in the empty hall, with only moonlight coming in from the solo window at the end.
I can’t help myself from counting the rings, and after four, I decide to give him until six to answer. He must be home by now because his apartment isn’t far from Huskies, and I had to take the time to walk-run from the student parking lot. On the sixth ring, I hesitate for a split second, with disappointment tugging at me?—
“Susie?”
He answers the phone in a gruff voice, making my name sound sexy.
“Yes.”
He knew it was me. I feel a flash of giddiness for no reason. Why shouldn’t he know? Did I think he’d be expecting someone else to call? Like maybe one of the hundreds of girls Judy says are panting after him?
“How’s Liz?”
“Asleep.”
“Passed out.”
His voice is flat, but I hear unmistakable disappointment.
“I can wake her if you want to talk?—”
“No.”
That’s it. That’s all he says, and I almost yawn while I wait a few hard beats of my heart for more.
But there’s no need for me to wait for an explanation because I know he has no intentions of giving me one. He doesn’t share.
“Well, good night then,”
I say, expecting him to hang up, but he surprises me when he replies.
“Good night, Susie. And… thank you for the candy.”
He hangs up.
The loudness of truth in his raspy voice rings in my ear.
I stand there in the hallway with the receiver buzzing against my ear and his words echoing like the hallelujah chorus in my head.
He remembers. He knows it was me who came to his rescue in the ditch. And he’s grateful. Like a friend. Like we have something special between us, a real connection after all these years.
I feel that giddiness rise again, and I only hope I’m not the only one who feels the special bond. Of friendship. Friendship is special. Especially friendship with a secretly caring guy like Bryan.
We have the fittings for our new uniforms at Pete’s house and spend the rest of the week practicing, eating, taking long cool showers, and collapsing into bed at night. Or maybe I should speak for myself.
Carol ordered candy for our fundraiser to help buy the guys’ uniforms—blue-and-white checked pants to match our skirts and white shirts with the letter C printed on them.
Liz ordered extra megaphones for the guys, and I have no idea where she got the money. She said the old ones were battered and ruined, not an acceptable showing in front of a crowd.
The bookstore opens on Saturday, and the students are moving in starting this weekend. I was advised we should get to the bookstore as early as possible before it gets overcrowded.
“Didn’t you see the signs?”
Liz asks, lounging across the chair sideways in our dorm’s common living room while Carol, Judy, and Sherry sit on the floor and I lie on the couch, wishing I had an ice pack or a tub of cold water.
“That’s right,”
Carol says in between bites of her candy bar. “They’re setting up the Hawley Armory as an adjunct bookstore.”
“Isn’t that where we had cheering tryouts?”
She nods.
“I’m buying my books used,”
Judy says. “I do it every year. My older sister told me it was the way to go.”
“Where do you find used books?”
I ask, perking up.
“People leave notes on the bulletin board at the bookstore. That’s where I find most of mine unless I know someone who took the course before.”
I file away the information, glad to have an opportunity to cut my expenses. I can use the extra money to buy my sneakers and other things I need for cheerleading.
“I can’t wait for the rest of the students to arrive,”
Judy says.
“I can’t wait for classes to start,”
Sherry pipes up.
Carol sighs. “I can’t wait for the first dorm party.”
“What about you, Liz?” I ask.
“I can’t wait for our first game.”
“Next week.”
A chill of trepidation runs through me, and my wish for a cold bath disappears.