Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
ECHO
I hate that I’m made to feel guilty for something completely innocent. My dad most likely thinks I had this whole scheme orchestrated when I had no clue Dustin was going to show up. But no matter the ramifications, I’m thankful he did.
“What’s he doing here?” my dad asks, looking back at Dustin, who stands with one hand in his shorts pocket and gives a small wave bye to the both of us. My dad nods, and I watch Dustin a little longer. Long enough for him to give me his signature grin that shows off his adorable dimple. That little indentation mixed with his pale green eyes makes my heart go pitter-patter.
“Honestly, he showed up all on his own just to spot me.” My words are true. I just hope he believes them. Just because I have a crush on the boy doesn’t change the status of what he is to me. I begin turning the ball in my hand. My heart goes from pitter-pattering to beating record fast. The words Be My Girl are scribbled across the ball. When my dad isn’t looking, I glance back at an eagerly waiting Dustin and give him a quick nod as I hold the softball snug against my chest.
Excitement and dread fill my senses. My dad pops open the trunk, and I sit my bucket of softballs inside. I tuck the ball Dustin gave me in my glove, then place it in the bucket with the other balls. I close the trunk, then look at my dad, who’s standing next to the open driver’s side door. He’s probably waiting for me to ask to drive because normally, I would. I have my license, but who knows when I’ll have my own car. Probably never.
“Umm.” I look down and rub my sweaty hands on the bottom of my shirt, suddenly feeling anxious. “Is it okay if I jog home?” I glance back up, chancing a look at my dad. He rests his hands on the roof of the car, looking at me and then out at the field where Dustin no longer resides.
“Is there a reason you’re wanting to?” His eyes narrow, discerning my words.
“Well, I just need to start conditioning myself and think it’d be a good way to do so.” I shrug, hoping it sounds believable. It’s not a lie…fully. I can’t tell him that my heart is overstimulated right now, and I can’t sit still in the car with him. I can’t tell him that the guy I just claimed to be ‘a friend’ is now more than ‘a friend’. I can’t tell him that I hate that I can’t be excited about things like this and feel I have to hide it from him. How can something that feels so right feel wrong just because someone else disapproves?
“Fine,” he says with a slight smile. “I’ll give you a head start.” He nods, urging me to take off. And I do, knowing he’s going to beat me home no matter what because I plan on taking the long way. I have a lot of excitement I need to burn off before walking through the front door. I jog around town, exploring the outskirts I haven’t really seen yet. Houses are a bit more spaced out, with larger yards to maintain. I come to a dead end that leads to the cemetery. I pause, taking in the rocky entrance with tall metal beams framing it. Cut-out letters spelling cemetery fill the space between the two beams, connecting them. I debate on venturing in but think better of it. I slowly walk backward before turning around and running back toward where I just came from. Having to backtrack is a disadvantage of not fully knowing the town, but I’m okay with it extending the time of my jog.
I make my way downtown to fully see what it has to offer. Passing the post office, I take notice of the pharmacy across the way. I slow myself to a walk to read the signs of the buildings that are tightly packed together. Old brick and rock forming most of the two-story shops. There’s something whimsical about every small town’s Main St. So much history that the town and its people seem dead set on preserving. And I see why. A flooring store, thrift store, bakery, and bar line the side I walk on. A bank, hair salon, and hardware store across from me. I stop and take in all the moving parts around me. Children laughing, cars passing by with music blaring, and car horns followed by people waving prove this small town is a lively one.
I’m about to continue my way home when a voice catches my attention. My head snaps across the street, where I see Dustin help load some items into an older woman’s car. I smile, watching him sit her items inside with care before telling her to have a great day. I look both ways and jog across the street once the road is clear. I push open the glass door and the bell chimes.
“I’ll be right with you,” he says with his back toward me, intently scanning the shelf. “Can I help you?” he asks, stepping down from the stool, back still to me.
“Yes, I’m looking for my boyfriend. You might know him.” I hold my hands behind my back, shifting my weight back and forth. That sounded way better in my head, and now I feel nervous saying it.
He spins around in my direction with a huge grin plastered on his face, taking a step toward me. “Yeah, I might know him.” Two more steps and he’s closed the distance between us. “He’s a lucky son of a gun.”
“You’re right,” I admit with a shrug, finally letting go of my hands as they drop to my side.
Dustin glances down and grabs one of my hands, taking it in his. “You calling me your boyfriend sounds better than I could’ve imagined.” He lifts his gaze, meeting mine.
Pitter-patter.
Pitter-patter.
So much for running all these feelings away.
“Ahem.” I hear from behind. The joy drains from Dustin’s face, replaced with annoyance. He drops my hand, crosses his arms across his chest, and leans to the side, looking past me. “You’re not getting paid to flirt, pretty boy.”
Dustin’s jaw ticks, and his fists clench. I turn around, slightly placing myself in front of Dustin, and notice the tall, slender redhead. I’m pretty sure he’s in my math class.
Peter… Patrick…ahh, Paul, his name badge appears in my view.
His cocky grin falters as soon as I begin to speak. “Hey, Paul,” I start.
His face pinches together in disbelief as he fixates his gaze on me. I don’t dare point out the obvious; that I only know his name because of the badge attached to his work smock.
“I stopped in for some paint samples,” I lie. “Dustin saw me cradling my hand and asked to see my finger to check if it was possibly broken or just jammed,” I lie again to cover up why he was holding my hand. “See,” I say, holding my hand up long enough for him to look before covering it back up with my right hand.
“Mmmhmm,” Paul says, narrowing his eyes at both of us. “And what was the consensus?”
“Jammed,” Dustin grits out, causing a small smile to tug at the corner of my mouth.
“Well, at least it’s not broken.” Paul shrugs, now looking at only me. “I can help you with those paint samples, Echo.” He finally smiles.
“Ahh.” I glance down at my watch. “It looks like all this chitchatting has caused me to run out of time.” This one isn’t a lie as I do need to get home. “Maybe next time.” I offer to lighten the blow. It’s a third lie as I don’t need paint, nor would I want him to be the one helping me with samples. I turn toward Dustin, slowly walking backward to the door. “Thank you again, Dustin.”
He finally loosens the stern face he has with Paul and waves. I wave back and add a wink for good measure. It earns me a low chuckle as he shakes his head before throwing a hand back through his hair. He keeps his eyes fixed on me until I turn around, and I know they’re still on me until I’m outside the door and he can no longer see me.
I quickly make my way home, knowing my dad is going to have a conniption. I’m surprised he isn’t out driving around looking for me. Ten minutes later, I’m heaving and out of breath but home nonetheless. I bend over, placing my hands on my thighs to get my breathing under control. I straighten my stance and hold my arms above my head, making my way to the front porch. My bucket of softballs is sitting next to the front door, and my heart sinks. I slowly make my way up the two steps and to the bucket. Reaching in, I grab my glove. My empty glove. Anxiety sweeps over me as my joyous mood now turns to dread.
“Looking for this?” my dad asks from the porch swing. The bushes lining the porch hid him so well. He tosses the ball to me just like Dustin did, and I catch it, reading Be My Girl.
Oh, shit.