Guardian (The Guardian Trilogy) (4 page)

“I love
you.”

“What?”
I look up at him, confused.

“You
heard me.”

James
and I are lying together on the couch in his living room.  We were supposed to
go out but decided watching a movie was better than riding mountain bikes in
the rain, even if it is August and the light shower will cool the mugginess.

I turn
my attention back to the movie.  Did he just say what I think he said?

“So?”
he prompts.

I
manage the lamest response possible.  “So…what?”

“Really?”

I stare
up at him stupidly.

He
frowns and looks away.

Damn.  I’ve
hurt his feelings and I didn’t mean to.  I straighten up so that I’m sitting by
his side and face him.  “Hey.”

He’s
focused on the movie now, his mouth set in a hard line.

“I’m
sorry.”

No
response.

“I
really am.”

He says
nothing.

How do
I fix this?  “I just didn’t expect, you know….so soon…” I can’t form a
sentence.

He
still says nothing.

We sit
in silence for countless minutes.  His focus is on the television, mine on my
hands that are clenched together in my lap.  There’s an uncomfortable tension
between us.  I don’t know what to say, and I don’t want him to be angry with
me.  Maybe I should just go.

I unfold
my legs and start to leave when suddenly he pounces at me, grabbing both of my
shoulders and pushing me on my back against the couch.  My breath comes out in
a whoosh.  “Hey!”

He
hovers over me on his knees, his hands holding my shoulders against the furniture,
pinning me.  I look up at him and he’s smiling like this is the funniest thing
ever.

“Caught
ya,” he smirks.

“Oh,
now you’re speaking to me?”

He
laughs.

“It’s
not funny!”

He
rearranges his face to be serious but his eyes are still laughing.  “You’re
right.  It’s not.”

I
struggle against the pressure of his hands.  “Let me up.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Not
until you say it.”

“Say
what?”

He
raises his eyebrows at me.  “Like you don’t know.”

He
wants me to say I love him?  I buy time.  “And if I don’t?”

His blue
eyes light up at the challenge.  His hands leave my shoulders for a split
second and he collects my wrists in one hand, leans over and pins my arms above
my head.  “I’ll make you talk,” he says and goes for the most ticklish spot on
my body with his free hand – my ribs.

“Stop! 
Don’t!” I yelp.  I try to squirm away by twisting my body from my waist but it
just gives him easier access to my side.

 “Give
up?”

“No!” 
I laugh and try to move in the other direction.

He continues
my torture and I can’t speak through my laughing fit.  I’m laughing so hard I
can’t breathe.

“Give
up yet?”

“No!” 
Tears start to stream down my face.

“How
about now?”

“Can’t….breathe…”
I gasp.

“I can
do this all day,” he teases me.

I feel
like I’m going to pee my pants.  “Okay!  Okay!  Stop!  I’ll talk!”

He
stops tickling me but doesn’t let go of my wrists.  He leans in so we are nearly
nose to nose.   “Well?”

My
breath catches.  At first I think it’s because I’m recovering from my hysterics,
but the tingles that float over my skin tell me it’s for other reasons.  “Um…”

“Um
what?” he grins.

I can’t
help it.  That lopsided smile gets me every time.  In one quick motion I lift
my head and catch his mouth with mine.  It takes him off guard and lost in the
kiss, he releases my wrists.  The thought crosses my mind to use my freed hands
to push him away and escape, but my body has other ideas.  One hand wraps
around his neck while the other tangles in his hair, holding him in place.  Our
kiss deepens and I pull him close, deciding I want to stay here indefinitely.

After a
few moments James rests his forehead against mine.  “Nice try.”

“I
thought it was nice.”

“Stop
trying to distract me.”

“Is it
working?” I joke.

He
lifts his head to look at me and his face is serious but not angry.  He pushes
himself back so he’s sitting at the opposite end of the couch.  He offers his
hands and I take them.  He pulls me up so we’re sitting facing each other.

“Maybe
I did this the wrong way,” he says, nervously running a hand through his disheveled
hair.  His sandy brown locks have turned a little blonde from the summer sun.

I shake
my head.  “No, you’re fine, it’s me.  You just caught me by surprise, that’s
all.”

He
sighs and looks down.  Neither of us knows what to say; it’s uncomfortable for
both of us.

I suddenly
become interested in picking at my cuticles while my mind races.  I know he
loves me; he didn’t have to say it.  But he did.  And I know I love him.  So
why can’t I just say it?  Is it because we’ve only been a couple for a few
months?  He’s been my best friend since forever.  If I didn’t love him as a
boyfriend I would most certainly still love him as a friend but then you don’t
randomly tell your friends you love them…

The rambling
in my head is cut off when James reaches out and gently lifts my chin so we’re
looking at each other.  Staring me straight in the eyes he says, “I love you.  I’m
about 99% sure you love me too.  So you don’t have to say it right now.  No
pressure.”

Now I
want to say it.  To make him feel better.  To make things easier.

“I…”

“Don’t
say it just to say it.”

“But
I…”

“Emma.”

“Listen! 
I...”

“Emma. 
Seriously.”

“I am
being serious!”  I slap both my hands down on his hard chest in exasperation and
lean in to get in his face.  “Listen!  You know it takes me a minute to process
things.  I’ll admit I choked earlier.  But I want to say it.  I want you to be
100% sure.  I.  Love.  You.”  I enunciate each word.

He
considers this for a moment.  “You’re not just saying it?”

“No.  I
mean it.”

His
face relaxes.

“You
really had doubts?” I ask.

“Well…”

I
frown.  “I would think that kiss would’ve made things clear.”

James
gives me a sly smile.  “Maybe you should kiss me again just to make sure I get
it.”

My
eyebrows jump.  “Really?  You think so?”

“I do.”

I pretend
to mull it over for a moment and then I smile.  “Nope.  I think you get it just
fine.”

He
shakes his head.  “I don’t.”

“You
do.”  I try to lean away but he wraps his arms around me before I can get very
far.

“Honestly,
I don’t get it,” he says as he attempts a sad puppy dog pout.

I
laugh.  “If you keep that up I may never kiss you again.”

“You
will,” he says leaning in to me.

And
I do.

“Em,
wake up.”

I try
to open my eyes, but they feel like weights have been tied to them.

“You’ve
got to get up.”

I turn
my head in the direction of my father’s voice and try to speak, but my mouth
won’t move.  I want to tell him I’m tired and I can’t open my eyes and to leave
me alone.

I feel
him sit on the bed and gently shake my shoulders.  “Emma?”

I try
to open my eyes again.  Why won’t they open?

“She’s
been sleeping for hours,” he says to someone.  I can hear the worry in his
voice.

“It’s
okay Dad,” I want to say.  “I like this sleep.  There are good memories here.”

“She’ll
wake up when she’s ready,” my mom says.

“Are
you sure you didn’t give her too much?” he asks.

“I only
gave her one of the sedatives Dr. Morris prescribed for my insomnia.”

My dad
sighs.  “If she doesn’t wake up soon I’m calling the doctor.  I feel like we’re
not doing a very good job.  Maybe we should call a professional.”

“Dale, we
need to give her some time to work through this.”

“Do you
think she needs some friends around?  You know, people she can talk to?”

I think
I hear my mom move closer. “I’ll give Shel a call in a few hours.  Maybe she
can pay Emma a visit.”

Ah,
Shel, I think.  I miss her.

“Come
on, let’s leave her be.”

My dad
leans over, kisses my forehead, and the smell of Irish Spring soap lingers in
the air.  I feel the bed move as he stands, and I hear them leave.  My eyes
still feel heavy; will I ever open them again?  Whatever that sedative was,
it’s powerful.  Since I can’t open my eyes and fully wake, my thoughts turn to
Shel.  Shelby.  The only best friend I have left.

An
image pops into my mind and I try to smile at the memory, but my mouth won’t
cooperate.  Shel and I are crouched at the end of James’ driveway in the
weeds.  It’s hard to contain our giggling.  We’re holding rolls of toilet
paper, cans of shaving cream, and a couple bars of soap.  Devil’s Night is a
beautiful thing.

“Okay,”
she whispers. “You start on the trees down here.  I’ll head up to the cars and
start with the cream and the soap.”

I nod. 
I watch her creep up the driveway looking like a mugger.  Her black sweatpants
and sweater conceal her enviable curves; her ski cap hides her straight brown
hair and bangs.  I try to be stealthy in my identical ensemble, and crouch
low.  I make it over to the side yard where I throw a roll of toilet paper into
a nearly leafless maple tree.  It catches on a branch and unravels as it falls
to the ground.  I grab it and toss it back up, grab it and toss it, trying to
be speedy.  Once this tree looks full, I move to another one a little farther
up the drive and get started.

I can
hear Shel pressing the shaving cream out of the cans in between the crunch of
fallen leaves beneath my feet.  I glance up the drive and see her methodically
covering James’ windshield with shaving cream.  I laugh to myself.  That will
serve him right!  Two can play at this game.

Earlier
in the day, Shel and I got wind from Zach during school that James and Matt
were planning an epic tp-ing event at my house around midnight.  We decided
that it would be fun to beat them to it and devised a plan: we’d leave earlier
and wreak havoc at James’ house first.  If the boys still carried out their
scheme after seeing what we had done, we’d be waiting in the darkness back at
my place ready to bust them before they could do any real damage.

I’ve
finished with about three trees when I run out of paper.  “Shel!” I whisper-yell
to her.

She
looks my way.  She’s finished with James’ Jeep and is busy soaping Matt’s
pickup.

“I’m
out!  I’m going back to the car for more supplies!”

I see
her nod.  I creep back down the driveway to Shel’s car, her grandmother’s old tan
Lumina, which we’ve parked a little way down the road from the house.  I make
it to the car and open the squeaky rear door.  I grab as many rolls of toilet
paper as I can and try to shut the door as quietly as possible, although I’m
not sure who would hear me out here.

I
concentrate on keeping a hold of all the rolls as I creep back up the
driveway.  I shouldn’t have grabbed so much.  Back where I left off, I let the
rolls fall to the ground except for one and get ready to heave it into the
tree.  I take a second and glance over at Shel to see how she’s coming along,
but she’s not by Matt’s truck anymore.  Confused, I start looking around the
yard to find her.

“Shel!”
I whisper as loud as I dare.

No
answer.

“Shel! 
Where are you?”

Again
no answer.  Where could she have gone?  Did I pass her on my way back from the
car?  Impossible.  I start to walk toward where I last saw her.  “Shel!”

SMACK!! 
Something hits me dead center in the middle of my back.  I whip around to see a
tall, wiry blonde running away from me, laughing.  Matt!  I look down and see a
cracked egg shell and yolk on the ground.  He’s throwing eggs!

Crap! 
We’ve been found out!  I run around James’ truck to duck down and hide.  When I
come around the side I get a good look at the front porch and see three cartons
of eggs sitting on the ground.  I run over to them, grab as many eggs as I can
hold, and run back, ducking low.  I hear footsteps approaching on the other
side.  I stand up quickly, turn, and launch an egg.  It connects with my target
perfectly – except my target is Shel!

I can’t
help but burst out laughing.  “I’m so sorry!” I tell her as she stands there
dripping with egg.  I notice she’s holding a couple of eggs too.  She must have
found them while soaping.