Old Enough to Love... (Just One of the Guys) (11 page)

This girl was infuriating. The truth is the last thing she wanted.  “Fine. Let me think—her house, her cousin’s, her car and the Jeep. You want positions?”

Her brow furrowed. She didn’t have a clue what that meant.

“That’s four,” she pointed out.

“The Jeep twice,” I admitted reluctantly knowing this would come back to haunt me.

She wrapped her arm around her gut as if she were in pain. She slid down in the seat and laid her head on the blanket, pulling her knees to her chest.

“Emma, I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough.” 

Girls were so confusing.  I wasn’t even with her at the time.  We had kissed.  That’s it. Nothing more and I’m apologizing. I was so far ahead on the scoreboard with Will and
Travon that I didn’t regret it.  But why the hell do I care what this girl thinks?

“I know.”

“Emma. I had just met you. You left. I didn’t know if you even liked me. Then, I met her and…” I didn’t say anything else.

We rode in silence for awhile; my hand never left her back.

“Zach.” She reached and clutched my hand. “We weren’t together. I can’t be angry. You had every right.” she sighed. “But it still hurts.”

I lifted her hand and kissed it.

She continued, “And, it’s obvious she still wants you.”

“I don’t care what she wants. There is only one girl I want.” I squeezed her shoulder and when I saw her smile and heard her breath of relief, I knew she was once again mine.  

Saturday morning, as the clouds blocked the sun’s way into my room, I woke to a throbbing head. My eyes were swollen and red and I didn’t want to go down for breakfast but I hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday at lunch. I was starving.

Ryan’s door was shut. I smiled as I passed it. He’d been loyal to me last night. I remembered the look on his face when Estelle said the words.  He knew I’d be hurt and he tried to prevent it. He always had.

I remembered when I was six and woke up from my heart surgery when the doctors had closed the hole in my heart and he was lying on my bed with a big stuffed hippo. I thought that he’d had surgery too. The doctor had assured Mom and Dad before the surgery that this would be my last time in the hospital, God willing, and Ryan took it that it would literally be my last time…ever…that I wouldn’t be coming home. He was a permanent fixture at my side. He was there when I woke up, when I went to sleep, when I ate and when I went to the bathroom—until I was able to be wheeled out and put in the car to go home.

It started with me weighing only three and a half pounds at birth, hence the name Runt. I didn’t remember any of the stories, just memories of being told so many times how I’d been more like a pet to him rather than a normal sibling annoyance. He’d always taken care of me, seeing me as fragile—breakable. I guess that’s why I’d been off limits to all the guys. I don’t know that he ever voiced this. It was just sort of unspoken.

I trotted down the stairs. Mom sat at the kitchen table with her mug of coffee and newspaper and Dad was mowing. 

“Good morning sweetheart.”

“Hey, Mom.” I poured water in a glass and washed down some Tylenol, then got out a small skillet to cook some eggs.

“How was the beach?”

“Cold. I should have dressed warmer.”

“Was your brother upset you went?” She asked with a raised brow.
            “No. I don’t think so.”

“And Zach? How was that?”

Hearing his name caused a heavy sensation in my chest. I shrugged. “It was fine.”

She stood abruptly and hustled through the kitchen. “I have a showing at 11:00. I hope to be home for lunch.” She rushed out. “Oh.” She was back. “I have that bridge and those booths from the carnival a few years ago. Mrs.
Redd stored them at her house and now wants to get rid of them.  Any ideas?”

“I’ll give it some thought,” I replied with the start of a smile.  She was gone again.  I already had the perfect idea, if I could work it out.

“Hey Runt.” Ryan shuffled into the kitchen, his eyes barely open, a couple of minutes later.

“Morning.”

“Breathing ok?”

“Yes.  Thanks.”

“For what?” he poured cereal sloppily into a bowl and doused it with milk.

“Last night. You know.” I was embarrassed. My first real boyfriend and he’d already slept with my brother’s ex. That should make for interesting Sunday dinner conversation.

He sat his bowl on the table and ruffled my hair. “Estelle’s a bitch. She’s pissed at me and lashing out at you.”

“Why is she pissed?”

He garbled something I couldn’t understand through the cereal and milk. A pink piece of half chewed Fruity Pebbles flew out of his mouth and landed in front of me. My lips pulled up and my tongue darted out. He laughed.

“Sorry. She likes to think she broke up with me. It started after prom. Long story.  But I dumped her before we left for Cannon. You know the stupid shit we do there. I wasn’t going to go up there with a chick back here.”

“That’s nice. Break up with a girl you like
here
so you can go have sex with someone you don’t know
there
. Hmm. Classy, Ry.”

“I
ain’t tryin to be classy. And I didn’t like her that much. I’m leaving for college next year anyway.”

I carried my plate to the sink, rinsed and put it in the dishwasher. “Remind me never to date someone of that mentality. Do you think she’s really pregnant?”

He shoved another bite of cereal in his mouth as I left the kitchen. “You don’t need to be dating at all,” he mumbled.

I rolled my eyes as I walked out.

“Runt!”

“What?” I stopped in the hallway.

“I’d put money on it that she’s not pregnant. I’ve heard that one before. But, don’t you see, he’s just looking for someone to nail?”

Wincing, a wave of nausea rushed over me. I knew better. Last night, had he said yes to wanting that with me, I was ready to offer myself to him—like a sacrificial lamb—and yet he refused me. That’s not what he was looking for, clearly. After all, I was just fifteen…

“You’re wrong,” I said faintly with my back to him.

“Emma. I’m a guy. I’m not wrong. Trust me on this.”

I swallowed hard and walked away.

Even the water in this town tasted funny, I thought as I downed a full glass. It was clear Emma loved this place, but even now, I racked my brain trying to think of something I liked. Nothing…outside of her.  Sweat ran down my temples and I dabbed it with my shoulder. I needed a shower after my workout at the gym. My phone vibrated. Estelle again. Twenty-one texts since last night. Not one from Emma. When I walked her to the door last night, I felt confident. But today, I was iffy again.  I hated iffy.

Mom’s laptop was sitting on the kitchen island and I clicked on
Facebook. I never posted much, if ever. Wow, 49 notifications. Estelle had tagged me in a dozen pictures from over the summer. Shit! She was not going to make this easy.  I unhooked the laptop from its cord and nestled myself into the recliner. Then I removed the pics from my page and untagged myself in the photos. After a quick search, I found Emma. Her page was set with private settings but I studied her profile picture. Her and Grant.  What the hell?  I decided to text and friend request her at the same time.

Hey
 
send

Hey back

How r u feeling today?
 
Send

I feel good. You?

Me? Well, I wasn’t the one who couldn’t breathe.

I’m good too  busy day?
 
send

No.   You?

Not too bad   Movie tonight?
 
Send

I can’t. Family night :(  you can come. I understand if you don’t want to.  It’s ok.

Family night?  My head rested against the back of the recliner. Oh, how the thought made me…shudder. But if this was going to go, I don’t know where, working things out with her brother and father were going to have to happen.

That should work  what time u thinking
 
send

6?  My house

See u then 
send

“
Ry?” I banged on his door.

“What?”

I opened it and stepped in.

“Hey. I’m asking…begging for a favor.”

He was cleaning and twisted his Chicago Cubs baseball cap on my head. “Like you’ve ever had to beg for anything.”

His words should have made me feel more hopeful but they didn’t. He didn’t have a clue where I was going with this; if he did he wouldn’t agree. “It’s about Zach.”

He stopped picking up the dirty clothes on the floor and glowered at me. “It’s not open for discussion.”

“I like him. Really like him. Why can you not do this for me?”

He shook his head. “Runt. He is too old for you.” He threw the stinky clothes in his hamper.

That was it. I’d had it and the conversation had just begun. As I took in a long slow breath through my nose and my chin lowered to my chest, I scowled.  “Benjamin Ryan Hendricks,” I yelled with my hands on my hips. “I am fifteen and he is seventeen and this means a lot to me. For years, I have dealt with all the girls that you have dated. Being polite, defending you when I shouldn’t, listening to sob stories and worst of all becoming friends with someone that you dump and I usually lose the friendship. Now! I am asking you. No, I am telling you, to be nice to someone that
I
like. Do you understand me?”

The corners of his mouth twitched into a semi-smile and he stared at me. I kept my jaw tight.

“WOW! This must mean a lot to you. I don’t think you’ve gone off on me like that since—well—maybe never. OK.”

My arms fell limp and my eyes widened. “OK?” I asked.

He shrugged. “OK,” he repeated. “But…”

I knew there was a ‘but.’

“If he hurts you, I will break his neck.” He batted his eyes a few times but didn’t smile.

“Well. Maybe not his neck.” I smiled jumping on top of his mattress and throwing my arms around his neck. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

“One more thing. I’m not willing to listen to his sob story if you dump him, got it?” 

Little did he know, I would never dump Zach Owens. More like the other way around. I feared for the safety of Zach’s neck.  “Deal. By the way, he’ll be here at six,” I laughed as I ran from his room.

The doorbell rang at 5:55 and I beat my dad to the door. Zach’s tan face greeted us both with a warm smile. His tattered khaki shorts rested low on his hips and his polo shirt hid the muscles I knew were underneath. His chest was broad and my heart fluttered just thinking about how perfectly I fit between his arms.

“Zach. You remember my dad. Matt Hendricks.” 

“Yes. How are you sir?” He extended his hand and my father shook it.

“I’m great, Zach. Nice to see you again. Awake, this time.” Dad grinned.

Zach nodded and studied his feet for a quick second. “You too, Sir.” I could tell he was nervous. “That won’t happen again.”

My dad grinned. “I’m sure it won’t. Call me Matt.”

“Yes, Sir.” His eyes flashed to mine.

“We’re leaving. Hope you’re hungry.” I spoke softly.

“Ryan!” my dad yelled up the stairs then stepped out of the room; Zach captured me in his arms. He buried his nose in my hair and I was glad I had just washed it. My insides felt like they’d burst.

“Hey, when is your birthday?” I asked.

“November 23
rd
. Why?” He rocked me back and forth not letting go.