To the Steadfast (22 page)

As I rush from the
cafeteria, I pull my scarf around my face and stick
my hands inside the pockets of my black coat. The winters aren’t as bad in
Tennessee as they are in New York, but they’re still chilly. The past month has
been ridiculous with school and volunteering at the local hospital in hopes
that my nursing school application will be enough. 

“Cody!”

I turn around to see
Bassam running from the cafeteria doors after me. I’ve not seen him since
school has started back up, which with my busy schedule, wasn’t hard to do. But
it’s a small school, and we were bound to bump into each other sooner or later.

“Hey.” I give him a big
smile and wrap my arms around him as he gives me a big hug.

“I feel like you’ve
been ignoring me.”

“Nah, just school and
stuff. You know.”

“That’s what I keep
trying to convince myself. Can I walk with you?”

“Sure,” I tell him. I
motion towards my apartment, which is only a few blocks away.

“I figured you’d be
driving that hot new ride you got.”

“It’s easier to walk
than to drive around for ten minutes looking for a parking spot.”

He sticks his hands
into his pockets. “You got some time for that raincheck date you keep promising
me?”

I stop by the edge of
the road, ready to cross to my apartment. Should I? It’s just hanging out. What
could it hurt?

But before I can say
yes, I lose all courage. “I can’t.”

“How come? Didn’t we
have fun at the Christmas party?”

“Yes, I had lots of
fun. It’s not you, it’s me.”

He blows out a breath
of air. “You’re gonna use that line on me? Really?”

“I didn’t mean it like
that. I only meant…I’m afraid I’m not very good company.”

He laughs. “See,
already good company. What do you want to do?”

He’s not going to give
up. “No.”

We cross the street,
and I pull my keys from my pocket, ready to go inside.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Uh, I just ate.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.
Want to go to see that new horror flick,
Ghost Town
?”

A chill runs up my
spine. “I hate horror movies.”

 We step up to my porch
and I turn to him, not sure if I can get past this sinking feeling that we
aren’t synced. He wants what I don’t want. Isn’t he supposed to lack what I do
and vice versa? Isn’t that what love is? Technically what do I know about love?
Nothing really. Except for what I see in books and movies.

He grabs my hand and
pulls me back to the sidewalk. “Guess if we can’t find something to do we are
gonna do what I do every Friday morning.”

“What’s that?” I let
him pull me, curious as to what his ritual is.

“Every Friday, after my
tests, I go and blow all my money on scratch tickets.”

I try to catch his eye
to see if he’s serious. He doesn’t strike me as a gambler. “You play the
lottery?”

“Only on the scratch
tickets and only on Fridays,” he says like that makes it any better.

“You ever win?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes.”

We keep walking until
we get to a gas station. There’s a picnic table outside for students to eat on,
so I take a seat while he goes inside to spend what is probably all his dad’s
hard-earned money. A few minutes later, he comes outside waving a few pieces of
paper in the air.

“Ready to get rich?”

“I don’t have that type
of luck,” I reply. I scoot over on the bench so he can sit next to me.

“I’m feeling lucky
today. Got a penny?”

I shake my head, and he
pats down his pockets looking for some spare change.

When he comes up empty
handed, I pull the chain from around my neck and hand him my heart necklace.
“Use the corner of this. It may help.”

He takes the necklace
and looks at it for just a moment before using the corner of it to scratch the
front of the card. I bite my lip in excitement as he scratches off the silver
to reveal a bunch of numbers.

“What are we looking
for?”

“Lucky number fives.”

“Did we win?”

He moves on to the next
card. “Nope.”

Much to our
disappointment, the next one is a loser as well. When he gets to the final
card, I’m dripping in anticipation. No wonder some people are so addicted to
these things. They’re fun. I watch as he scratches away on the card to reveal a
five-dollar win.

“No, shit! You won!”

He squeezes the top of
my thigh. “Luck be a lady. What should we do with the five dollars? Keep
going?”

“Uh, yeah,” I say as if
the answer should be obvious.

He goes inside and
comes back out with five more dollar scratch tickets. We play the same game.
Him scratching and me looking over his shoulder.

“Three more dollars. Exactly
what we began with. Should I quit while I’m ahead?”

I put my hand on his
shoulder. “Keep going! Keep going!”

Again, he goes inside
and comes out with a few more scratchers.

“This is it. If we win
a thousand dollars, you have to agree to go with me to Vegas and get married.”

What are the odds of
that happening? I smile and nod and he begins scratching. I don’t know if a
part of me is hoping he wins and I get to run off with a man I barely know, but
it’s exciting to know that it’s a real possibility, something I didn’t know I
enjoyed.

“I’m gonna dress up
like Elvis,” he says as he uses his hand to dust off the debris from the
scratcher; we both scan the numbers to see what we won.

“Did we win?” I can’t
see as well as he can.

“Ten thousand dollars!”
he yells while throwing his hands in the air.

“You’re kidding me,
right?” I have to grab onto the side of the picnic table to steady myself. What
did I just agree to? Oddly enough, there’s a calm in it all. I like Bassam, and
for the first time in a long time, I’m not stressing about any other guy.

“I’m kidding. We didn’t
win anything, but we can still go to Vegas this weekend if you’d like.”

“I knew it!” I push him
away from me and stand up. “I’m not gonna marry you.”

“Sit.” He pulls me back
down beside him and wraps his arm around my shoulder. In his other hand dangles
my necklace. “Did someone special give this to you?”

The half-heart pendant
dangles back and forth in front of me. “Just a guy from back home.”

“I see. Does he have
your heart?”

I snatch the necklace
from his hand. “No, I wear it sometimes.”

“And why is that?”

“It looks nice.” Liar!
I don’t know why I wear it sometimes. There’s no real reason as to why I
reached for it and put it around my neck this morning.

“Well, good. That gives
me a chance to win your heart. But I guess I better start by winning your
friendship first. Let’s hang out tonight.”

I’m so tired of this
back and forth. Am I over Mischa or not? I want to prove to myself that I am.
He has no power over me. What would it be like to have a second date with a
guy? A guy with so much going for him? A job, a stable future.

“Fine.”

He looks taken aback.
“Really?”

“Really. You make me
forget everything. You make anything fun and I haven’t smiled in a long time. I
mean, we just sat here playing scratch tickets and I laughed.”

“You should see me when
I actually try.” He leans in like he’s going to kiss me but stops mere inches
from my mouth. From here, I can see every inch of his face. He has a little bit
of stubble on his chin, but the rest of his face is tanned perfection. His dark
eyelashes rim his entire eye, curling with just the right amount of sexiness.
His smile, perfectly straight and gleaming white, hypnotizes me.

“I’d like that.”

As winter becomes spring, I
find myself spending more and more time with Bassam.
We usually meet for a nightly study date and sometimes a coffee in the
mornings. He is right about the genius thing and helps me with learning all
those hard official names for the body parts. I’ve lost touch with just about
everyone else. I Skype with Lydia, but since she’s begun acquiring parts in
off-Broadway musicals, her time to come and hang out with me has become scarce,
however she has promised to come visit when summer starts. Suzanne has been having
so much fun at school she’s lost touch except for a few texts here or there. I
have a few friends in my nursing classes, but we don’t talk outside of class.

Bassam is coming over
this morning. We’re heading to the lake for Spring Break. Somewhere warm where
I can wear barely anything and think about nothing for an entire week. I was a
little hesitant about going on vacation with him, but after he told me his
father owned a cabin in the Smoky Mountains, and we would have our own
bedrooms, I agreed. My father offered to pay for some sort of beach vacation,
but I’d declined. Taking more of my father’s money was the last thing I wanted
to do. He already paid for cost of living, and it was all pity money. I’m
zipping up my suitcase when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!” I yell.

The door flies open and
in barrels Bassam wearing an appalling Hawaiian print shirt and plaid board
shorts. On his face is a pair of tacky round sunglasses. “Who’s ready for a
week of fun with Bassam?”

I cover my face and
groan. “Oh no, no, no.”

“What’s the matter,
Cody? Don’t like what I got?” He spins around a few times before bowing to me.

“I’m not going anywhere
in public with you looking like that.” I point to his attire and cock an
eyebrow at him.

“What’s wrong with what
I’m wearing?”

“Trust me, you look
awful. Go change.”

“No way, this is my
trip, and I invited you.”

His hand grazes mine,
our fingers barely touching as he brushes past me. A spark travels up my arm
followed by a trail of goosebumps. Most of the time, I’m able to keep my
thoughts about Bassam at a PG-13 level, but every once in a while a moment will
pass where it becomes harder and harder.

“You felt that didn’t
you?”

I pull away from him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are so lying,
Cody.”

I clear my throat and
rummage through a drawer, not sure exactly what I’m looking for. “Why you say?”
What in the hell? What does that even mean?

“Your voice gets all
pitchy and high when you’re nervous.”

“It does not!” I wince
when my voice takes on a high squeak.

“Just admit it
already.”

“Admit what?”

“You are falling in
love with me.”

“Love? I hardly know
you.” I lean against the door and take a deep breath.

“I’ve seen the way you
stare at me when you think I’m not looking. You want to jump me.”

Mortified, I walk away
from him. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

He’s leaning against
the doorframe with his hands in front of his chest. “No need to get upset.”

“I’m calm.”

 “About this weekend.”
He finishes by cupping my chin and placing a kiss on my lips. It’s gentle,
soft, and a shiver runs through me as he pulls away. It feels good. So good
that I lean in to kiss him again. His hands move to the back of my head as we
get lost in the passion that’s been burning in us for so long.

“I’ve wanted to do that
for so long,” he says as we pull back.

My lips raise in a
smile, but I can’t answer. I didn’t think I could ever get those butterflies
back, and this time those stirrings in my gut aren’t afraid of rejection.

  It takes a few hours
to get to the Smoky Mountains, but it’s well worth the trip. Bassam is a little
more rustic than I’ve ever been, and I kind of like it. It makes me branch out
a little. The cabin is small but has a quaint charm filled with wood paneling
and a hot tub in the living room. He still doesn’t make any assumptions and
puts our bags in different rooms.

“So what are your plans
for after graduation?” I ask. We’ve both been avoiding this conversation, but
with May just around the corner, we can’t ignore it.

“I still have more
school.”

“Oh really?”

“I have to get my
master’s in science, and I have this summer internship coming up at Vanderbilt.
I’ll be working in medical research.”

“Oh.” I can’t believe
he has never mentioned that in a few short months he will be moving away.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, I just didn’t know
you were leaving.” I’m getting too attached. Inhaling deeply, I nod.

“It’s only an hour
away, but if it makes you feel better, I only found out about this a few weeks
ago.”

I give him a wide smile
and change the subject. “So what’s first on the agenda?” I hop up on the bar
and look around at the outdated furniture.

“I’m gonna teach you
how to shoot.”

“Shoot?”

“Bow and arrow.”

As much as he talks
about his competitions, I’m kind of excited to learn how. I wonder if it will
be like playing darts.

“We have a target out back.
Grab a drink, and we’ll go out.”

The grass has begun to
sprout, and if you look hard enough, a patch of tulips has bloomed in the
corner of the yard. We step off the covered deck to where a few hay bales are
stacked with a bright blue and red target pinned to the front.

Bassam holds up a bag
in his left hand. “You’ve got to learn the basics first.” He unzips the bag and
pulls out a few pieces that look nothing like a bow. In a matter of seconds,
he’s putting the pieces together and naming them off as he grabs them. I catch
phrases such as lower limb, upper limb, nocking point, and string.

“Watch,” he demands. He
puts some sort of wrap around his arm and with quick agility he shoots arrow
after arrow at the target. Each arrow hits the red mark within the middle and
when he runs out of arrows, he turns to me. “All you have to do is practice and
aim. My little cousins use these hay bales for practice when they come down
here.”

I take the bow from him
and we step over to the next target.

“Oh,” he says. “Don’t
forget to wrap it up.” He throws a sock, with the foot part cut out, at my
chest.

Holding it up, I raise
an eyebrow at him. “What do I do with this?”

“It’s a makeshift arm
guard. Put it on your arm.”

I do as he says and he
situates himself behind me and shows me how to hold the bow and place an arrow
in it.

“Pull it back slowly.”

His hands set on my
hips, making it hard to concentrate on what I’m doing. All I can think about is
him being inches away from me. My arm holding the string begins to shake.

“It’s getting too
heavy.”

“Aim and let go,” he
whispers in my ear.

I try to steady myself,
but I can still feel the aftermath of his breath in my ear. When I finally
release the arrow, it sails through the air and lands just on the edge of the
target.

“I hit it!”

“Not bad for your first
time. Wanna go again?”

“Yes.” I stick my
tongue out at him and grab another arrow. I hit it a few more times, but most
of them sail above the target. When I run out of arrows, Bassam spins me around
and throws the bow on the ground.

“You’re so hot when you
do that,” he growls before pushing me back a few feet against a tree and
covering my mouth with his.

I wrap a leg around his
hip and allow myself to become lost in his desire. He’s passionate about
archery. He’s passionate about me. That makes me passionate about him. His
hands run up under my shirt and trace the curves of my skin. I’m not ready to
go further, so when he makes a move for my bra, I stop him.

“Not yet. I don’t want
to move too quickly,” I say. If I’ve learned anything from all my past one
night stands, it’s that sex doesn’t make people love you. I can’t force people
to love me with my killer moves. Life doesn’t work like that. There has to be
an emotional connection.

“That’s fine.” He moves
his hand out from under my shirt but continues to kiss my nose, forehead, and
eyelids. “I’d rather we wait anyway as long as there is plenty of this.” He
leans in a kisses me again with urgency. It makes me savor every second. Every
toe curling second with him.

“Plenty of this,” I
repeat before leaning in for a final kiss