Long After (Sometimes Never) (11 page)

21

Love Somebody

Annie

There is something therapeutic about packing. I get to make lists. I get to check items off. It’s calming. Relaxing. All my energy is focused on the task. I have no time to spend dwelling on anything other than making sure I have enough underwear to
last the four days I’ll be away.

I’m taking Loden home to meet my family for Thanksgiving. And then we’ll be making t
he hour trip to Loden’s parents’ house.

I’
m nervous. My mom is all paper plates, plastic utensils, and serve yourself for Thanksgiving. With overloaded, flimsy plates in hand, we all hunker down on the living room floor and watch the first Christmas movie of the year. While eating our turkey—which is always either undercooked or sadly resembling cardboard—we make fun of the movie, re-voicing the characters’ lines. Someone always uses this as an opportunity to make fun of somebody else. A year’s worth of pent up aggression released in a few rewritten lines of Jingle All the Way. Then someone gets mad, peas get flicked, bread winds up being thrown… This all leads to ending our day with one massive food fight.

My step
dad started the rule a few years back that no showers are taken until the living room is cleaned. It’s not a bad rule—it guarantees quick clean-up—but Loden and I will need to get ready for his family’s dinner.

In his house they actually have Thanksgiving dinner at dinner time. Not at noon like we do in my family. They also dress nicely and sit at a dining table. Loden told me his mom has special china she uses for the holidays.

It sounds exactly as I’ve always wished holidays had been in my house. But my family is made up of all these strange little bits—like pieces from several different puzzles all thrown together to make one big, odd picture.

I’ve wondered what it would be like to just have a whole sister or brother. To not have to put “half” or “step” in front of it. I’ll never know, but I will make damn sure my own children will never have to think about it.

And that’s why I’m nervous. I don’t want Loden to know how messed up we all are. I try so hard to keep it all together, to not let anyone see anything less than perfection. But I’ll be giving him a front row seat to the live show. Cirque du Soleil—Annie Phillips style. Except I won’t be wearing a funky costume and I doubt there will be any applause at the end.

My cell phone r
ings, causing me to jump. I drop the shirt I was folding and look at the clock. 12:15. I know by the time exactly who it is without looking at the caller ID. I ignore it, letting it go to voicemail.

I know I promised I would call him every night, but I just can’t talk to him today.
I… I have no idea how I feel. I’m so confused. Why did he tell me to listen to that song and think of him? What does that mean?

I barely slept last night because I kept repeating the song, trying to decipher each and every word. And then arguing with myself over whether I misinterpreted. I’m pretty sure that song is all about sex. Like really hot,
giving
sex. Either that or cooking.

But I’m pretty sure
Chase wouldn’t have me listen to a song about cooking. Of course, I didn’t think he’d have me listen to a song about sex and ask me to think of him. And, God, I did. I did think about him and that just made it so much worse. Because there is an attraction there. I admit it. The boy is so beautiful that I can’t stand it, and maybe if it were a different time or we were different people…maybe if I didn’t have a boyfriend.

No. Just no.

Not Chase. No matter how much the thought of kissing him had me tossing and turning last night I cannot go there. I have Loden. And Loden is perfect. I think he loves me. And I think I could be happy with him. We’re making plans.
Planning our future together
. We’ve even discussed marriage as a future possibility.

That’s what really matters.

My phone rings again and I sigh as I stare at it. I can’t. A part of me wishes I could explore this—whatever this is—with Chase, but it’s just not worth the risk. Avoidance is the best answer. I’ll go home with Loden, have a great holiday weekend and come back next week, relaxed. Time will heal all this awkward confusion inside and I can get back to normal.

Pounding on my door is followed
up with, “Annie?”

I open the door slowly, not recognizing the voice. One of my dorm roommates, I
can’t remember her name, is waiting, one bright pink slipper tapping the tiled floor.

“Some guy is h
ere for you.”

I nod
my head absentmindedly and look out into the common room.

And then I freeze.

Seriously. I can’t do this.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss. If I act like a total psychotic bitch he’ll turn around and leave. He’ll rethink whatever message he was trying to send me and run far, far away.

“You didn’t call,” Chase says quietly. “And you didn’t answer.” He shrugs unapologetically. “So I stopped by to check on you.”

I watch him scratch his chin nervously and something in that small gesture—that tiny little slip that gives him away—makes my breath shake as I exhale.
He was worried about me
.

“I don’t need you to check on me. I’m fine.”

He nods and slides his long fingers into his front pockets. “I just needed to see.”

He keeps looking at me and I
fight the urge to squirm. To cover myself. To run into my room and lock the door. “Well you saw,” I say, but there’s no bite to it.

“You should’ve called.”

I press my lips together so I don’t scream at him. Instead, I take a step closer and cross my arms over my chest like a shield. “You shouldn’t have told me to play that song.” There. I said it. It’s out. Maybe he’ll feel like an ass and go.

“You’re right,” he agrees.

I search his face, looking for any sign of sarcasm. All I see is uncertainty and it makes my heart squeeze. Maybe I should say something here, but all the thoughts running through my head aren’t ones I can voice. God, if I did… I can’t even imagine it.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t—I didn’t mean—shit.” He rubs his forehead then drags his fingers through his hair. It’s brown today. Must be because he’s going home. I forget sometimes what his natural color
looks like, even though it’s always been my favorite on him.

He looks good like this. Just him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I whisper.

“Why not?” he asks quickly
. It catches me off guard and I try to think. Why not?

I shake my head, letting my arms fall to my sides. I feel numb. Sad. And that doesn’t make sense. I should feel good that we’re getting this out and over with.

“I don’t know.” It comes out barely more than a breath through my lips, but he somehow hears it.

He takes this step in my direction and though it’s not any bigger than any other step he’s ever taken, this one feels huge. “I need to know why I shouldn’t a
pologize, Annie.”

I
f I tell him he shouldn’t apologize because I have these feelings for him—this attraction—then that’s really important, right? That could change things drastically for a lot of people.

And if I tell him that he doesn’t have to apologize because he is so low on my radar that it didn’t affect me in any way, that’s important too. Because that changes us. Our relationship. Our friendship.

I hate that word right now. Friendship. You’re not allowed to kiss your friends. Not the way I wish I could kiss him.

No. I have Loden. That’s the most important part. I focus on the tile in front of my feet. The one with the uneven crack in the corner.

“Everybody makes mistakes,” I say evenly. “We’re friends. And friends forgive each other. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

There. That was the right response. The mature response.
People are drawn to one another all the time. It doesn’t mean they act on it. Now we push through this little bump and move on.

“I meant
something by it, Annie,” he says softly. “I’m just not sure what.” I look up in time to see the door close behind him. I’m left alone, shivering in the common room, even more confused now than I was five minutes ago.

22

About A Girl

Chase

After throwing together a bag, I take off. I need the familiarity of my house. I need the scent of Mom’s fresh baked cookies that she’ll be shoving in front of me all day tomorrow. I need the sound of Dad’s breathing machine, like white noise while I sleep. And I need the queen-sized, overly soft mattress I grew up with.

I just need to be home.

I feel like I’m nursing a broken heart and it’s such bullshit because A, I have never had my heart broken—
everybody loves me
. B, this is Annie—she’s a pain in my ass, and not the fun, kinky kind. Not that I’m into being spanked, but I can’t knock what I’ve never tried.

Anyway…

C, there was nothing ever there so there’s nothing to be heartbroken over.

I’m just sulking
because I want something and I can’t have it. I’ve always been this way. When I decided I wanted to play the bass, the first time I asked, my dad told me he wasn’t wasting money on something I’d get bored with in a month. I earned the money myself and when I realized the bass didn’t magically make me a rock god, I started teaching myself how to play. I’d listen to a song over and over again until I could copy it. I refused to give up and prove my dad right.

If only he had the insight to mock me in all aspects of my life. I’d be a fucking overachiever, running my own business by now or some shit.

Thanks dad
.

I flip on the radio because for once, I don’t feel like listening to my iPod. I want some mindless top forty tunes for a
while. Damn. Maybe I’m coming down with something. A virus would explain so much.

I ignore the
little voice in my head yelling “
Love sickness
.” It sounds alarmingly similar to Guy’s voice. And he needs to shut his imaginary fucking mouth. Even in my mind he messes with me.

Bastard
.

Perk of driving home at two in the morning—I make the hour and a half trip home in one. I try to be quiet so I don’t freak Mom out. That’s all I need now is for her to mistake me for the Hamburglar and call the cops. The damn door squeaks like it’s auditioning for a horror movie and I hold my breath. The only sound is the whirl and hiss of Dad’s breathing machine. I take a deep breath and sigh.

It’s good to be home.

~*~

I woke up this morning, put on a pair of sweats, and helped Mom prepare the yearly feast. When everything’s finished, I have no sense of accomplishment, so I sit down and eat way too much of my mom’s cooking. It’s Thanksgiving and I feel like shit, so the third helping of cornbread stuffing seems like a great idea. It’s not. But I don’t understand how big of a mistake it is until Mom has me standing in line, in the cold, waiting for black Friday sales to begin.

How the hell I got roped into this shit is beyond me. All I know is I feel like I’m about to puke, there are at least forty people ahead of me in line, and there’s only five TVs available like Dad wants for Christmas. I hope these people aren’t all here for that TV. I also hope I don’t puke on them.

My stomach bubbles and makes disturbing sounds, loud enough to catch the attention of the middle aged women in front of me. They smile politely as if they didn’t hear the rumbly in my tumbly, but carefully put a safe distance in between us.

I want my bed.

I rub my hands together and breathe into them, trying to regenerate feeling. They’re numb with cold and it just makes me that much more miserable.

“Here.”

I glance over my shoulder and do an actual double-take. I’m not expecting the large, dark eyes set in the pale face of a girl to be peering at me. She pulls the hood closer to her head with one hand as she holds the other out to me.

“Here,” she repeats. I look down at the offered gloves and chuckle. They’re purple with neon green smiley faces.

“Thanks,” I say as I wiggle my fingers inside, stretching the tiny things completely out of shape. They don’t offer much warmth, but it’s better than nothing. I hold my hands up, palms facing my chest, and grin. “What do ya think? Are they me?”

She laughs, nodding her head. The light from the store sign glares off the stud in her nose, drawing my attention to it for the first time. “They suit you,” she proclaims.

“Purple’s always been my color.”

She laughs again. She has one of those laughs—the kind that cause you to smile back, and so I do. “I’
m Heaven.” She shakes her head. “And you can save all the cheesy lines—I can promise you I’ve heard them all.”

“Chase,” I say. “And don’t be so sure. I’m incredibly talented when it comes to cheesy lines.”

She grins as her brows lift in challenge. “Give me your best shot.”

“Man, all I’m coming up with right now are really dirty ones. And since you were nice enough to offer me your gloves, and the fact that we’re stuck in line with each other for the next several hours, I’
d rather not piss you off—or wind up burning in Hell. Let me think about it for a little bit.”

“Damn, the dirty ones are my favorite.”

Oh, hell yes. “You just answered all my prayers.”

She scrunches her nose. “Heard it.”

I grin widely and notice I’ve taken a step or two in her direction, gravitating toward her naturally. “That wasn’t a line. Just the God’s honest truth.”

She rolls her eyes. “Your unoriginality is showing.”

Damn. I thought that one was good. “Sorry, I’m just awestruck. I’ve never met an angel before.”

She presses her full lips together, her eyes crinkling with humor. “Lame.”

“Agreed,” I say. “I need to get it together or I’ll never get into Heaven.”

“Raaaa,”
Heaven hums, making a buzzer sound. “Terrible.”

“Okay, okay.” I straighten up
and tug on the ends of my coat sleeves. “God sent you to me for a reason.” I hold my hands up and wiggle my gloved fingers. “I think we should explore this miracle. I mean, it’s not every day I’m given the gift of warmth from Heaven. So you should give me your number. That way, when I find a line fitting of your name, I can call you.”

Her lips pucker as she looks up at me, her hood sliding off her dark hair. “Okay,” she says with a tilt of her head.

“Okay?” I confirm.

“You had me
with ‘we should explore this miracle.’” She shrugs, a smile lifting her rosy cheeks. I watch her tug her cell phone out of her pocket and then I follow her lead.

“I can’t wait to tell people I got Heaven’
s number,” I deliver, cocking my brow, and waiting for her retort.

A laugh bursts from her lips as we exchange phones.
“Don’t get too cocky—I could be giving you a fake number so we can part ways without your embarrassment.”

I finish adding my number to her phone and trade off with her once again. “I’m not easily embarrassed,” I state as I hit send. Her phone rings in her hand and I smirk. “I knew it. Heaven can’t deny me.”

“Oh, wow. They just keep getting better and better,” she deadpans.

“It’s not just my pick-up lines, either. I’m like a fine wine.”

“Rich, middle-aged women have a penchant for you?”

I love this chick. I realize I haven’t thought of Annie once since Heaven handed me her gloves. Well, until now. Now I’m thinking about her again, but this is the longest I’ve gone in
months.

I sigh. “It’s a curse.”

“Mm, cougar worship—remind me never to introduce you to my mom.” I have no idea what she means by that, but I don’t even go there. I’m all for equal-opportunity and don’t discriminate based on age, but I’ve never jumped in bed with a friend’s mom—or an acquaintance’s for that matter—and I have no intentions of starting anytime soon. Heaven seems like more than enough to handle all on her own.

“Noted,” I agree.

“
So what has you in line, at midnight, in the cold?”

“My mom,” I
say flatly. “Or my dad, I guess. He wants a new TV for Christmas.”

“The big flat-screen
in the ad?”

I nod. “That’s the one.

“Since we’re friends now—having exchanged phone numbers and you busting out all those horrible lines and all—I feel the need to let you know I’m also here for the TV. And seeing as how there are only five available…” She trails off, leaving the sentence hanging unfinished between us.

“I’m not worried. Not only am I in front of you, but I’m also a lot bigger. I’m pretty sure I can take you if it comes down to it.”

“I just want you to remember I loaned you my gloves.”

I nod, acknowledging her. “Not to mention enduring my poor attempt at picking you up,” I add.

“Yes, there’s that too.”

“I’m still not giving you my TV.”

“Damn. It was worth a try. Guess I’ll just have to be quicker.”

~*~

I go home empty handed.

When the doors had finally opened at four in the morning, Heaven and
I followed the line into the store as all hell broke loose. The TVs were already gone by the time we made it into electronics five minutes later. We ended up in the adjoined Starbucks, drinking coffee, and laughing at the frazzled employees as they ushered crazed shoppers through outrageously long lines.

It was one of the best sleeples
s nights I’ve ever had. And for the first time in so long I don’t feel like shit. I actually had a really good time freezing my ass off. I met this girl that’s cool as hell. I like her.
This
girl
is single, and most importantly,
this girl
likes me, too.