23. Nathan
twenty-three
It’s Friday night,and I am in a middle school gym.
And there isn’t any place I’d rather be.
One, because I don’t drink or party, most of my friends are old men who play chess at the library, and I don’t want to be at home with my thoughts as company.
But reason number two is sitting right beside me with her eyes glued to the game like a hawk. Like she’s trying to impress me with how little she has to correct the clock this time.
Like she’s got something to prove to me. Like she wants to do well for me.
So, yeah, I could be here sitting next to Claire Benson with her knee occasionally rubbing against mine, or I could be at home thinking about her with my fist around myself for the fourth time this week.
I could be at home letting my thoughts swallow me, while she sits here, on the edge of her seat, with her tongue poking just past her lips as she concentrates. I could sit at the library, across from men double my age while they remind me not to get too old, not to let my life slip away, instead of storing up all of the jokes I’m going to try on her later—so that I don’t break her concentration now—that will get her to laugh like she did last week.
Right here will suit me just fine.
The Renegades squeak out a win, but without school tomorrow, neither of us has a reason to stay late tonight. As we head to the parking lot, Claire and I are both fidgeting with the thoughts of going back to our own baggage. The baggage we’ve been slowly revealing to each other in stolen, sneaky moments. Once in a bar. Once in my office. Once in the front seat of her car while sharing a large fry.
Tension grips me like a fist around my esophagus, and I rub my palm discreetly over my chest as we walk together. The fact that she’s beside me is the only thing to loosen the clenching fingertips from around my organs. The slapping of our shoes against the pavement echoes loudly, and for once, I don’t want to stew in silence.
Silence has been my escape and my closest friend, forged by the chaos in which my life unfolded. But here, for some reason, I don’t need it as a security blanket. Instead, my body is painstakingly trying to push the silence out, to replace it with any and every version of Claire Benson that it can manage.
“Did you have an easier time with the clock tonight?”
“Yeah. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
“You seemed like it. You kind of reminded me of Bilbo’s transformation in The Hobbit—he started out cautiously, but eventually gained confidence and grew into his role.”
The moment that quip rolls off my tongue, I want the pavement to crack open and swallow me whole.
A Hobbit joke, Nate? Really? That’s exactly how you’re going to lose her?—
“Oh my God.” She giggles, and I debate following the sidewalk until it meets up with oncoming traffic. “You would be a Bilbo guy.”
I tilt my head in question as we arrive at her car, and turn to face her.
“I… would?”
“Yeah. He’s, like a hundred years old and likes books, right?”
There’s mischief in her eyes, and as I let her retort sink in, I remember that I’ve misjudged Claire on every attempt. I thought my nerdiness would tank any progress we’ve made and yet…
“You’ve read The Lord of The Rings?”
“I’ve seen the movies. The first two, anyway. The books are on my endless Tbr. Maybe I’ll get to them when I’m ninety.”
Her grin adds constellations to the overcast sky, and it takes everything in me not to reach for her.
“That reminds me, did you get to start your book yet?”
The fall of her face, tilt of her head, and the subtle way she bites the inside of her cheek answers before her words to.
“No. My mom wanted to ‘chat about priorities,’ and after that was finished, I was too mentally drained to pick it up.” A far-away glaze coats her eyes, and suddenly, my chest is tight for a different reason. “Oh well. I’ll get ‘em next time.”
“What about tonight?”
For some reason, my heart aches at the thought of her not getting time to herself.
“I don’t know. I mean, Michael and Zoey are both at sleepovers tonight, and my parents took the little ones to a trampoline park to tire them out since Big Sister Claire was otherwise occupied, so they’re probably having wine on the couch. I might be able to sneak past them if?—”
“You can come over to my place.” It exits me before I have the chance to think. Before she can startle any more. “You won’t have to sneak around. I also have a big leather chair and a fireplace.”
My heart rate has tripled in the past five minutes, kickstarting when she met my Lord of the Rings joke with her own fire, now stampeding at the fact that I not only just invited her to my place of solitude, but that the prospect of her turning me down strangles the grip that had loosened around my throat.
“I’m sorry if that was inappropriate to ask. I just know how little you get time to yourself. You work so hard, and you deserve to do something for yourself that isn’t attached to your job. I only wanted to help. And, maybe selfishly, I don’t want our time together to end.” Swallowing, I think back to our conversation in my office. “You said you’d like to revisit the way I can’t seem to let you go on another day. How does today sound?”
I watch a kaleidoscope turn different expressions over in her eyes. The poised, intelligent woman that I missed in my judgement combines with the girl who is afraid to reach out and claim what she wants, too scared to see what she deserves. I want to give her that more than I want my next breath.
I can hear the cogs turning as her lips part, the tension gathering on her shoulders, adding to the mountain that comes from the pressures of home. But it relaxes, and her cheeks turn that cotton candy color, her lips purse into a small, secret smile, and she whispers, “Okay.”