The Truth About Letting Go (7 page)

He has perfect posture as he glides, smooth as a deer down the track, his legs pounding in rhythm. It isn’t until he gets closer that I see it. My throat hurts as he speeds nearer, then he slows to a stop by the bench a few yards away. I watch him take a long drink, unable to tear my eyes away. All my anger at Jordan is forgotten, and I feel like I might cry. The memory is so strong. I’m so confused.

The guy’s honey-blond hair is plastered to his forehead, and I watch him pick up his T-shirt and wipe his face with it. My chest aches as he lifts the cup to his lips and his eyes lock on mine. They’re green. But otherwise, he’s almost exactly like…

“Dad,” I whisper as my breath catches.

He smiles at me, and my grip tightens on the bench where I’m sitting. I’ve never fainted in my life, but I think it’s about to happen.

The guy walks toward me, and it’s as if everything—the cheerleaders moving side to side clapping, the Frisbee throwers, the sprinters, even the bleachers around me—go blurry, and we’re in a separate tunnel moving toward each other. Only I’m sitting down.

He stops at the waist-high fence that divides the field from the stands and leans his forearms on it. “Hey,” he says with a casual smile. “You new, too?”

I don’t think I can speak.

“No,” I hear myself answer in a shockingly calm voice.

“It’s just… I didn’t see you before the break.” His voice is smooth and has a vibration that makes me think he could be a singer. Low and rippling, it massages my insides. I almost close my eyes.

“I wasn’t at school that week.” I still feel light-headed, but my voice keeps answering him as if nothing is going on inside me.

“Did you have it too?” He wipes his head again with his shirt.

My breath is so shallow, he has to see it. “What?”

“Bronchitis? Pneumonia? All I know is one minute I’m sneezing and the next I’m in bed with a fever and a 20-pound weight on my chest. I felt like the walking dead.”

He is the walking dead. He’s my dad, alive and in teenage form.

I have no idea what this means or what to do with it. It’s as if my desperate wish to have Dad back has conjured up this creature that ran to me out of nowhere and is now standing in front of me smiling and talking. I shake my head. It’s also very possible I’m going totally nuts.

This guy is not my dad. But he is interesting.

“No. I was… My…” I don’t want to say it.

He doesn’t know about my dad. I
like
that he doesn’t know about my dad. I like that it feels like something has changed for a moment. That how mad I am at Jordan is almost completely wiped from my mind.

Almost.

“It’s okay.” He straightens and pulls his shirt over his head. I can’t help staring at his very fit body. “What’s your name anyway?”

“Ashley.”

“I’m Colton, but I hate that name. Call me Colt.”

Colton Sterling. Mandy. She wondered what I would think when I saw him. I understand now. She already knew two things I didn’t. He could be my dad’s long-lost son they look so much alike, and he is exactly my type. He’s everybody’s type.

“I heard there was a new guy.” My heart is still recovering, but my breathing has calmed some.

“Yeah. Shit, you’d think nobody ever moved to this town the way people act.” He winks. “You don’t seem too impressed.”

“I don’t? I mean…” I try to cover. I’m not about to tell him I’m definitely impressed. “It’s probably because it’s so late in the year for you to start. Why is that?”

“Because I’m bad, Lady Ashley.” His eyes narrow with his grin, and I remember how I felt in Jordan’s bedroom. Hot.

It takes me a moment to tear my eyes away. I glance out at the field while he finishes the water and crumples the tiny paper cup in his hand. “So what’s the deal with this luau Friday?”

I shrug. “Tradition. You going?”

“Are you?”

I think of Jordan with the glasses on his forehead. I think of Mandy and her pouting over how long it took this guy to return to school. “Yeah, I have a date.”

“Of course, you do.” He stands up, and I notice he’s not as tall as Jordan. But he’s perfectly filled out. Perfectly.

“Hey, you guys’ve met!” Mandy bounces up beside Colt and stands looking at him in the same way I probably am. I clear my throat and look down.

“I was just asking Lady Ashley here about the luau.” He smiles at me again.
Why does he keep calling me that
? Then I notice Mandy’s face, in particular her glaring eyes.

“I think Mandy still needs a date.” I say quickly. I don't really want to deal with Mandy mad at me, and I’m not sure I can trust myself with this guy. Not with the way I’ve been lately.

But I realize that’s the old Ashley way of thinking. I look at Colt again and consider how he would shake up everything. No brakes, no stopping the ride.

“I don’t believe it,” he says.

“Well, I was kind of hoping you might be interested.” Mandy blinks up at him. I can tell she’s having a hard time keeping her arms crossed behind her.

“Why don’t we double?” Colt looks up at me. “Who’s your date?”

“Oh, no,” I stammer. “That’s okay. I’m just… my date’s just a friend.”

“You have a date?” Mandy turns to me. “Who?”

“It’s nobody,” I say, avoiding her stare.

“Oh my god. Ashley!” She shrieks, and for a moment Adonis is forgotten.

“He just asked me yesterday,” I hastily explain. “And I… I said okay.”

“I knew that filming thing was a trick! And I told you
not
to date him.” Mandy cries. “You are not going to be happy about this later.”

I look down and press my lids together.

“What’s going on?” Colt is grinning watching us. I glance up and want to die. I want to be anywhere but here having this conversation.

“Jordan. This god-awful geek she’s been hanging around with since we got back from break.”

“He’s not god-awful.” I say quietly. “Jordan’s nice.”

He’s more than nice, but I don’t feel like defending him here. I don’t feel like defending him at all after yesterday. My anger’s trickling back.

“
You’re
going to the luau with a geek?” Colt looks up at me, and I can’t help responding to him.
Mandy could’ve warned me at least
.

“I’m taking off,” I say, rising on unsteady legs. “And you can stop talking about it now.”

“Just wait. I’ll drive you home.” Mandy turns back to Captain America and smiles up at him. “We going together?”

“Sure.” He smiles at her, and I feel a tweak of something like envy.

* * *

The short drive to my house feels like hours with Mandy gloating and singing along at the top of her lungs to a pop song on the radio. At the musical break, she flips her head my way.

“Well?” She grins. “What did I tell you?”

“Nothing, actually, and I’m totally pissed at you.” I lean back in the passenger’s seat with my arms crossed.

“What?” she cries.

“God, Mandy. You could’ve told me he looked like that.”

“How do you describe that?” She purrs. “Perfection on two legs?”

“He looks like…” I can’t even say it out loud. Not with Mandy acting this way.

“He’s 18.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“No, he’s actually 18.” She’s turning onto my street.

“So? It’s senior year. A lot of kids are turning 18. Amber’s—”

“He’s 18 turning 19. He was expelled or got held back a year or something. He’s a bad boy.”

“He said that,” I mumble. “What happened?”

“Don’t know exactly. Just that’s part of the reason he’s here. Dad talked his parents into moving to Creekside to get him away from the bad influences.”

“Your dad knows him?” We’re in my driveway, and I start to get out of the car.

“Yes. Isn’t it fabulous? And I love his name.” I catch the glint in her eye. “For once, the books were right. My dry spell is ending!”

I chew the inside of my lip thinking about it. His parents might’ve thought they were moving here to get him away from trouble, but from where I’m at, it looks like they moved the trouble to us.

And that’s it. The answer to why he’s here washes over me. Maybe trouble is exactly what I’m looking for.

* * *

After Mandy leaves, I head to the creek to try and sort out my feelings now that Colt’s in the picture.

As I walk, I think about Jordan, his soft brown hair and blue eyes. His funny quirks, the way he made me laugh, his kisses. My stomach fills with emotion, and I kick the ground hard. I’m not going back there. Jordan is just a friend like I said.

I think about Colt.

He’s something else, something completely different from Jordan. It’s like I made this decision to change my life, and the next day he ran up, ready to help me with it. It’s weird that he sort of looks like my dad, but it’s just a strange coincidence. It doesn’t mean anything.
Oh, God, what does it mean
?

I freeze on the spot.

That was
not
a prayer. It was just an automatic, habitual response to a confusing turn of events in my life. I neither expect nor want some God’s input. Not that I even believe in that anymore, regardless of what Jordan says.

Just then I hear a familiar huffing and puffing, and I see my absentee friend making her way to her spot on the bank below me.

“Charlotte,” I smile at first, and then I frown. “Where have you been? You completely ditched me after convincing me to do that whole interview about my dad.”

“Oh, Ash,” she breathes, steadying her voice. “I couldn’t be around Jordan with you. You’re so… so…”

“What?” My brows are still pulled together.

“I just… I mean, I’m already like this.” She waves at her large torso. “I can’t be with you with him and just throw it all into contrast for him.”

“Hang on.” I shake my head. “You’re saying you ditched me because you
like
Jordan?”

“You never listen to me.” Her high voice holds a gentle accusation. “I said I thought he was so cute, remember?”

“Yeah, but, thinking someone’s cute doesn’t always mean you’re into them.” I think about my own feelings for Jordan.

That do not exist now that I know his secret. There is no way I’m getting mixed up with someone who’s totally brainwashed, no matter how cute he cleans up or how easy he is to talk to. Or how well he kisses. My jaw gets tight. Who decides to be a pastor at seventeen? That is not what I want. I want to find out more about Colt, the self-proclaimed bad boy.

“I couldn’t watch him with you,” she says. “Especially since
you
don’t think of him that way. It would make it all worse.”

“Oh.” Guilt fills me. I was so happy to see my new friend, and now I have to tell her the truth. “I… he… well, he…”

“I know. He asked you to the luau.” She’s still smiling, and I search her eyes for any sign of anger or betrayal.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I stammer, thinking of our kiss. Our kisses. Our almost… which is totally not happening now. “It’s just as friends.”

“I know.” She sighs and we’re quiet.

I study the creek. The soothing sound of the water tripping over branches as it rushes past, driven by the slight breeze. It should all be soothing, but I’m unsettled. As much as I don’t want to care, I can’t shake my unexpectedly hot make-out session with Jordan and how it swept away all my sadness, replacing it with glowy warmth—before slamming it all to a stop like a plunge in ice-cold water.

“Will you go?” I ask.

“What?” Charlotte frowns. Then she lets out a soft giggle. “To the luau?”

“Yeah.”

“Umm, no. Who’d ask me?”

This time I see it in her eyes. Sadness. We’re quiet, and I attempt to change the subject. Maybe if I show her a bit of my inner crazy…

“I met the new guy. Colt.”

“I don’t even look at guys like that,” she says. “But he is gorgeous, isn’t he?”

“Does he… remind you of anyone?”

“Hmm.” She looks off at the water. “I guess that new actor—”

“No. I mean, anybody we know? Or… knew?”

I wait for her response, silently holding my breath. I know my dad’s number one fan has to have seen the resemblance. Charlotte looks at me again. Then after a few seconds she seems to understand.

“You think he looks like your dad?”

“You don’t?” I exhale relief followed quickly by concern. Maybe I need professional help.

“Well, maybe before he got sick and all. But your dad was different. He was so good, it shined in his eyes.”

I think about that. It’s true.

“I just saw him on the track,” I say. “And it seemed like—”

“But your dad didn’t look like
that
in high school,” Charlotte interrupts. “Don’t  you remember?”

“How do you know?”

“It was in his profile piece, ‘How I went from Fat to Fit’?” She stares at me like I’ve forgotten my own phone number. “Your dad wasn’t an athlete in high school. He had asthma. Remember?”

I look away and try to think. It seems like Dad used to joke about how I got Mom’s good genes, but I never really paid attention. He was always so fit as long as I could remember. I never tried to find pictures of him at my age.

“I guess I forgot.”

“He wasn’t as big as me, but he was never like
that
.” She lets out a grunty laugh that I consider advising her never to do again. But I let it go.

“He was such an inspiration,” Charlotte sighs looking off.

It all makes sense to me now. “That’s why you think… why you said…”

“If he could do it, I can, too.”

I watch Charlotte pull her shirt so it doesn’t cling to her rippled midsection. How have I become friends with her? What is it that makes me want to talk to her, hear what she has to say? Why is she so comforting to me, and how can I just tell her these irrational ideas pressing on my mind?

“When I first saw him, I thought that, well, that he could somehow help me remember my dad better. If I were with him. Is that weird?”

“Umm, yeah.”

“I know. But that’s not what I mean. It’s like, if I’m with Colt, I won’t have to miss Dad. I won’t worry about forgetting him.”

“Just look in the mirror if you don’t want to forget your dad.”