8. Teddy
EIGHT
TEDDY
Deep blue eyes meeting mine over a glass of ginger ale. Laughs ending in a little snort. An impromptu lesson on how blue jays are both beneficial and the worst, and how she wishes we had loons nearby because their calls are her favorite sound. Those are the memories that echo in my mind as I open my eyes the morning after Nellie told me she wanted to kiss me but she wasn’t ready. There was this strange sense of falling without ever hitting the ground when she said it. Elation and devastation had slammed into me at the exact same moment.
My head is pounding. Not from alcohol—I’d stuck with ginger ale along with her. The headache is probably from a lack of sleep and a hint of sexual frustration. It’s definitely not something about to rupture, I repeat to myself over and over again. We stayed until last call, talking. After we left, we sat on the hood of my car and talked until the sun reminded us that a new day was beginning. I had every intention of spending time with my team, but when all was said and done, all I’d done was nod my hellos and goodbyes. Nellie had all my attention, and I didn’t feel bad about it for one second. Not even now with my head pounding with some kind of happiness hangover.
By the time I get downstairs, I find my parents having a late breakfast in the kitchen.
“You got in late,” Dad says, smiling at me and then sharing a knowing look with Mom.
I busy myself by grabbing coffee and hiding my face behind an open cupboard door. “Yeah, lots to catch up on with the team.”
“Zoe said you played very well. Everyone in the crowd was pretty impressed from the sound of it.” His attention is back on Mom who is struggling with a slice of tomato that’s attempting to escape the toast it’s sandwiched between.
My parents have a pretty steady morning routine. Coffee for Dad, orange juice for Mom, and always, without fail, a toasted tomato sandwich. Then they share the newspaper and go over all the news from near and far. The only difference between now and before I was twelve is that when they’re done reading the paper, Mom doesn’t head off to work. In a couple of months, Dad will be retired, and I’m sure they’ll get up to all sorts once that happens. He’s talked about buying a small cabin somewhere as a little retreat for them. Something he can fix up, no doubt with our help, but somewhere just for the two of them. I’ll be happy to help. I can’t think of anyone more deserving than my dad.
“Yeah, definitely not a bad way to start the season. You should come to the game on Saturday afternoon. Maybe I’ll attempt to break my record from last year.” Last summer, I threw five perfect games. It’s not all that impressive when you take into account that 90% of those playing have only played baseball in gym class. There are only about seven people who play competitively, and three of the seven are pitchers. We aren’t really known for our hitting .
“Maybe,” Dad says noncommittally. That’s better than an outright no, but I won’t be getting my hopes up.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see a text from my boss.
Dale
I’ve got you on the schedule starting Monday at 6 am. You good with that?
Yeah, that works. Thanks.
See you then.
Dale Kramer has employed me at his landscaping company for the last five summers. This is the first year I’ll be tagging along with his tree team. I’m not sad about not spending the summer shoveling and mowing, but I have no idea what to expect. I won’t be one of the people up in the trees; I’ll be on the ground getting shit sorted and helping lug around branches and trunks. Thank fuck because I’m not great with heights. Still, it’s something different, and I’m looking forward to it. Jimmy wasn’t too pleased when I told him though.
“You’ll fuck up your arm or your shoulder and won’t be able to pitch,” he’d said.
I’d shrugged because I’m not about to put beer league baseball above income. As much as I like it, I don’t want to be living in my childhood bedroom for longer than I have to. Even if living here makes it easier to help Mom.
“Back to work Monday,” I say, looking up at my parents. “Need me to do anything around here before then?” I know my dad is going to tell me to go spend time with my friends, maybe meet someone before I get busy with work. He says the same thing every year, and every year I putter around the house doing odd jobs he’s been too distracted to complete. I see friends at night, but during the day, most of them are already working. But then I remember that Nellie said she wasn’t starting work until next week too.
I pull my phone back out of my pocket, and just as I’m tapping on my message app, a notification from her pops up.
Library Girl
You may be sick of me but feel like going for a hike today?
As if I’d get sick of you , I think to myself. I met her on Monday, and in less than a week I feel like I need a healthy dose of her to get through the day. Something warms in my chest as I realize she’s the one initiating plans this time.
Sounds good. Where would you like to go?
I reread the text before I hit send. Does it sound too blasé? I don’t want it to seem like I’m not jumping out of my skin in the best way at the thought of spending another minute with her.
Two hours later, we’re walking down a secluded trail talking quietly. Nellie is identifying bird song, smiling brightly when it’s a bird she likes a bit more than the others. If you’d asked me Monday morning if I gave a shit about birds, I’d have laughed and said absolutely not. A friend in high school had a budgie, and it used to freak me out swooping around his basement while we played video games. Now I’m hanging on every word about fucking birds. I’m even asking questions about them because Nellie’s knowledge of the feathered demons is sexy as hell. Also sexy as hell are all the tattoos she has on display. She’s dressed in athletic wear, a tight tank and leggings, and I’ve got a front-row seat to the art that sweeps across her upper body. Most are just black, but there are a few with splashes of color. The blue jay and cardinal both have muted accents of blue and red. I want to trace every single one with my finger—actually probably my tongue, but I’m desperately trying not to let my imagination go there.
I shouldn’t be so focused on Nellie when it’s a bit slick on the trail from the rain we had yesterday morning. The sun can’t breach the canopy above enough to have it dried up already, but I’m not ready when I hit a particularly damp spot and feel my foot slip forward. Within half a second I find myself stuck in a desperate attempt to stay upright. My arms start to windmill, and my feet fight to gain purchase on the mud. Gravity wins though, and I’m on my ass a minute later.
“Oh my god.” Nellie slides over to me, bending and holding her hand out. “Are you hurt?”
“Just my pride,” I grumble, taking her hand and slowly getting back to my feet. When I look up she’s red, desperately trying to hold in a laugh. “Oh go for it, let it out. I would.” I stare down at her. All she needed was permission, and she’s lost in a fit of wheezes and snorts. I’d fall a million more times if this was what the result was. Eventually, I’m laughing right along with her as I brush off my shorts.
When she gets control of herself, she looks mortified. “I’m so sorry for laughing.”
“Why? I would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.”
“Oh, good to know.”
“I am an equal opportunity laugher,” I say seriously.
“How progressive of you,” she purrs rather demurely as she reaches out, grabs my arm, and begins rubbing her fingers over a spot just above my elbow. I don’t move, just let her do her thing while I stare helplessly. I wonder if she can feel how my skin buzzes beneath the touch of her fingertips or if she knows how fucking incredible she smells. Notes of coconut and something else overwhelm my senses, and I have to work hard at holding myself back from dropping my nose to the top of her head and breathing in.
When she looks up at me, her hands remain on my arm, and I don’t look away. I want it to be very clear that I would like to kiss her. I want her to just go for it when she’s ready, without any doubt that I want the very same thing. Five days , the little voice says, it’s only been five days, have some patience . I swallow, and a small smile curves her lips. It’s shy yet flirty, and very Nellie.
Her hands return to her sides, and she gestures up the trail with her head. “Come on, I want to get to the waterfall before noon.”
I don’t know how I have so much energy. I’m going on roughly three hours of sleep, but if she asked me to hike across the country right now, I’d tell her to lead the way. Even if my legs gave out from exhaustion, I’d fucking crawl after this woman. The feeling both thrills and terrifies me.