17. Sitting, Waiting, Wishing
JACK JOHNSON
17
SITTING, WAITING, WISHING
She awoke the next morning pretzeled in an impossible position in the front seat of the car. Sweaty and aching, Sadie had folded herself over the middle console, nearly laying across Dakota, who’d wedged himself in behind her at some point in the long night. Though she was far from comfortable, she let herself snuggle into his chest for an extra minute, breathing in his scent and memorizing the steady beat of his heart against her cheek.
She couldn’t believe she’d confessed a truth she had only told her parents and Ginny. Something she never imagined sharing with Dakota, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself in that moment. When he’d seemed so earnest to know her better. To understand her. Just like the moment in her parent's kitchen when Dakota studied her tattoos, she felt herself desperately wanting to be known by him. To be understood.
And now he really knew. Knew that she did want something with him but wasn’t brave enough to say yes. Her stomach lurched at the thought of her own cowardice. Of how she played and laughed and trusted Dakota as her friend—only a friend—but wouldn’t give him the opportunity for more. A teasing voice in her brain said, friends don't hold friends' hands like you were last night, Sadie Mills. Reveling in it and having fevered-sweaty dreams about those same hands running along sunflower tattoos. But Sadie just told that girl to mind her own business.
When she’d broken things off with Tanner, she’d felt the pain—and then relief—of, as the great Albus Dumbledore wisely said, “The choice between what is right, and what is easy.” But the problem with Dakota wasn’t whether he was right or that a relationship would be easy. She believed both those to be true. The problem was the overwhelming fear she couldn’t seem to let go of when she thought of the possibility of losing him.
Lord, help me surrender everything to You.
Dakota’s breathing changed, though the car stayed silent. She felt his arm come around her head, brushing hair back gently from her face, then he slowly brushed his fingers across her cheek… her lips. Was she dreaming again?
Sadie’s eyes flew open and met Dakota’s. But they both stayed still, puzzled perfectly together, in a stare down. Unwilling to be the first to move or the first to speak.
He cupped her cheek and let his thumb rest against her bottom lip, swiping in the tiniest of movements against it. As if to ask, “This okay?” just like he had the night before.
Sadie gripped the fingers still resting on her cheek and tightened them.
Yes, it's okay. In fact, it's perfect and we should probably stay in this hot, damp car forever. And maybe I could be brave, if you helped me along.
Dakota took her silent agreement and ran with it, sitting up quickly and pulling her up in suit. He rested his forehead against hers and rubbed his thumbs along her cheeks, breathing deeply.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispered, voice scratchy and deep. “I want to kiss you so badly, Sadie.”
“I…” Sadie hesitated, but inside she screamed, Do it! I DOUBLE DOG dare you!
“I want that too.” She couldn’t even echo his words, too afraid she’d maul him with her mouth. “But I don’t know if we should. It… it wouldn’t be…”
He exhaled, turning his face and pulling her into his chest in a half body cuddle. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. It is what it is.”
“Tension.” She hugged his waist, wishing she could let go of everything but him.
“Yeah. Tension.”
“Friends with tension. We can do that. We’ve been doin that. And pretty dang good, I might add,” she babbled, but pulled away when he didn’t respond. She hated the look of resignation she found on Dakota’s face. “Right?”
“Yeah, we can Edwin. Friends with tension.” He let her go and scrubbed a hand over his face, then placed both hands on the wheel as if fortifying himself. “We better get outta here though, if I’m gonna keep this friendly. I think I’m gonna get some air. Run in, use the bathroom… take a lap. You want me to take the pest?”
He inclined his head to the back where Gus took up every inch of the seat not overridden with strawberries, stretched out entirely on his belly.
“No, I, um.. I’ll take him.” She grabbed his hand. “Are we good, Kota?”
“Yeah. ‘Course, Edwin. We’re grood, even.”
Without another word, Dakota jumped from the car and ran through the rain towards the rest area, leaving Sadie slumped in her seat, filled with regrets.
“It won’t start.” Dakota turned the key over and over again, but to no avail. It was the first time he’d spoken since returning from the bathroom, silently handing a Coke from the vending machine over to Sadie, and eating a breakfast of strawberries. Over an hour had passed in painful silence, minus the sounds of Gus’ neverending purring as he preened himself in the backseat.
Regardless of any regret she may have felt or the abounding patience she’d prided herself in, Sadie thought she could very happily ring Dakota’s neck. She felt insecure and she hated feeling insecure. And it infuriated her even more that the feeling stemmed from Dakota.
“Oh, are we talking now?” she snipped, as equally annoyed that her car wouldn’t start as she was with Dakota’s cold shoulder. “You feelin’ extra cordial?”
“We were always talking, Edwin,” he gritted out through his teeth. “I just needed a minute. That’s all.”
He turned the key again. Stella spurted then stopped. Dead. Aside from the windshield wipers which mysteriously hadn’t turned off. They swiped back and forth in an offbeat rhythm, the miraculously still-beating heart of the deceased car. Dakota gave the steering wheel a smack and slumped in his seat.
“Sure and strong… We’re gonna have to call a tow.”
Sadie harrumphed and threw her feet on the dash just to irk him. “I find this all kind of funny, actually.”
“You find our predicament funny? We’re hours from Tybee, stuck in a storm, have no air conditionin’—unless you’re plannin’ on spending your day inside that bathroom, but I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been serviced in quite some time—and we have zero mode of transportation. That’s all kinda funny to you?”
“Yup,” she said. “Sure is. I find it absolutely hilarious that just last night you said you only expected friendship from me. Remember? That’s it. All the warm and fuzzy friendship you could offer, right?” She gripped her legs, feeling far too much like throwing a highly friendly punch at sweet Dakota Major. “I trusted you, Dakota. I told you something I have told very few people, and then… this morning because I said no, you’re mad at me? You’re throwin’ everything back in my face. Don’t you see this is just justifying why I was so afraid?”
“I’m not mad at you,” he said, softly. Resigned.
“Well I’m mad at you! You’re punishing me. Throwin’ a tantrum like a petulant child because you were rejected. And now you're stuck in this old, broken down car with me!” She pointed at him and laughed like a crazed woman. “So, yeah, I find that pretty dang funny, Dakota Remillard. I’m sooooo sorry!” She dragged out the words, knowing how asinine she sounded. “I’m sorry I can’t say yes to you! I’m sorry ya can’t kiss me just ‘cause you want to—and, yeah, maybe I do too, but that's besides the point. And, I’m especially sorry for your awful luck.”
“You sound like a child!”
“I know!” she hissed back.
“Sadie, listen… I’m mad at myself. Okay?! I am mad. But not at you.” He stared out the window before looking her over. “I lied to you last night.”
“When? How?”
Dakota slumped in his seat and stared at the loose fabric in the ceiling, hanging just over his face. “I don’t just want to be your friend, Sadie.”
Sadie felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. It was happening. Exactly like she knew it would.
“But, you said…”
“I can’t just be friends with you because…” He closed his eyes but then turned to her straight on, eyes tired and red-rimmed. “I can’t look at you and not want you. I don’t want to be stuck in this hot, barely tolerable piece of junk car with you for one more second and pretend I don’t want to touch your skin. To trace those tattoos down your arm. To hear all your secrets and dreams and hopes. To hold your hand. To laugh and kiss you and want more with you.”
Sadie sucked in a breath.
“I can’t pretend I just want friendship, Sadie. I don’t want to anymore. When I saw you this morning… woke up next to you… it broke me, alright? I’m always going to want more, and I think you do too. After this morning… I think you want something with me… you and me together… but I don’t think you’re ever going to be willing to jump off the ledge of your fear and just try.”
“That’s not fair!” she argued, though she felt the truth resonate through her bones.
“It isn’t. You’re right. You’ve been through so much, and I get why you’re afraid. I really do. I know you got hurt, Sadie, but Tanner was an idiot! You’re wastin’ all this time expectin’ the same things that happened with that fool to happen with me. And that’s not fair either!” He ran his hand through his hair, biting his lower lip and staring her down with the bright hazel eyes she loved.
She loved him… The realization hit her right between the eyes… And she was going to lose him.
“Those walls you’ve built to keep yourself safe are the same walls that will keep you from being seen. From being known…” Dakota clenched his fists in his lap, as if keeping himself from touching her. “I thought I could prove you’d be safe with me, but I realized this morning that you’re not. I’m human. I’m going to disappoint and hurt you again and again even when I don’t want to. I want to break your walls… to break down your fear, but I don’t know how, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough. But I believe God can, Sadie. He will. He knows exactly how to blow right through them, and I want to be there when he does, so badly, but…”
“But you’re throwin’ the fight, right? Can’t go after what you want? You’re done?” She didn’t know why she was taunting him. Why she was so angry.
This was what she wanted—needed—right?
She couldn’t love Dakota and lose him.
She wouldn’t.
“Yeah. I think… right now, I’m done. I don’t wanna hurt you, but I think I was off base here again.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Cordiality Count, the competition, the library and strawberries, and even the dang loft… I’d give it all to you if it meant you saw me.” He pointed at his chest. “Me. Not my sisters or my family. Not some idiot guy who didn’t come close to deserving you in the first place.” His eyes shone with tears, and Sadie felt so close to breaking she thought it might damage her permanently. She’d never recover.
“I see you, Sadie. I see you,” he repeated, lowering his voice. “But, maybe, you just don’t see me. Not how I want you to, anyways.”
Sadie pulled Gus into her lap and focused her attention on his fur. On clenching him to her chest and snuggling in. She’d do anything but face Dakota after that speech. After the hard truths he’d so flawlessly confessed. Truths she couldn’t respond to. She wished she could curl up in her mom’s lap and ask her advice.
She heard her mama’s gentle voice though, soft and sure, “Watch and pray, my girl.”
Sadie said a silent prayer, feeling like she might burst into a flood of tears at any moment. I’m tryin’ Lord. I want to trust, but I don’t know how to let go.
Dakota called the tow company and then Ginny, asking for a ride. “It’ll be a few hours on both,” he offered her, quietly. Less himself.
“Okay.”
And they fell into a terrible silence again, save the sound of the rain hitting the windshield and Dakota’s unanswered confession echoing around them.