by Seven Steps
He looked at his phone.
“Well, time’s up, but I guess we could break the rules, just this once.”
He smiled at me again. Did he know how amazing his smile was? Probably not, since he did it so much. Guys who knew they had a great smile only used it when it could get them something, but not Julius. His smiles were given freely. I liked that about him.
“Why did you do this?” I asked.
His head tilted to the side. “Do what?”
“Why did you agree to all of this? The baby thing. You could have contested it or run or whatever, but you didn’t. Why?”
He leaned heavily against the back of the bench.
“My brothers and sisters were born at thirty weeks old, and we didn’t know if they were going to make it or not. I remember praying to God every night, asking him to watch over them, to keep them safe. I was only nine then, but I’ll always remember those prayers.”
His face bore a a sad smile, as if he was remembering it all right then.
“When I finally was allowed to see them a month later, they were so small. Helpless. They needed someone to take care of them, and I knew I would be that someone. Yeah, my mom and dad were there, but I was their older brother. I was the one they’d come to when they were having problems at school or needed help with opening jars or wanted help with sports. That was all my territory, and I was so proud of that. It was like a badge of honor, you know?”
His gaze on me intensified.
“When you told me you were pregnant, I was angry at first—at you, at myself for being so careless. When I left, I went into The Center and punched lockers for like ten minutes straight. Then, Clay came and calmed me down. He told me to think about my little brothers and sisters, to remember how they needed someone to take care of them. He helped me realize that my baby’s going to need someone to take care of it too. I didn’t ask for any of this, and I’m not going to blame you for it either. It takes two people to make a baby, but it also takes two people to raise a baby, and I’ll give up everything to make sure this child is taken care of. I promise you that.”
My heart grew for him, and I wiped away a tear before he could see it fall down my cheek.
He reached out his hand, hovering it above my belly.
“May I?”
My guilt cloud opened wide and poured down on me like a hurricane as I allowed him to touch my empty stomach.
“Boy or girl, they’ll be strong and beautiful.” He beamed, first at my stomach, then at me. “Just like its mama.”
I can’t do this. I can’t ruin this guy’s life.
I bit my lip and hugged my arms around my chest. It felt raw and open, as if it were about to cave in.
“Can you take me home please?” I asked. It was abrupt, but I didn’t care.
I had to find a way to stop this. I had to do something.
I needed to get Clay on the phone and tell him the deal was off—along with some other choice words.
“Are you cold?” he asked, already pulling his jacket off. He placed it over my shoulders and I was surrounded by the warmth of him, the smell of him.
He smelled like Doublemint gum and Old Spice deodorant.
My mouth watered and I swallowed hard.
He rubbed his hands up and down my arms until my body temperature soared.
“There now. All better?”
My brain felt like jelly. My arms heated as if I were standing in front of a furnace. The huge jacket was knee-length on me, and the sleeves had so much slack I looked like I had snakes for arms.
Why did that make me feel so…
So…
Safe.
I felt safe with Julius.
And that was making me panic.
Because I was a fraud, and if he looked close enough, he would see it.
“Please take me home.” My throat was on fire, burning to tell him the truth, but I couldn’t. I had to talk to Clay first.
Julius’ face fell a bit.
“Sorry. You must be tired. My mom was always tired too. I shouldn’t have kept you out so late.”
“No, it’s just…” I tried to think of another lie but I figured I should just go with his. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m tired.”
“I’ll get you home.” He started walking toward the exit, slowly enough for me to fall in step with him. My guilt was overwhelming, twisting my heart into pulsing, bloody knots.
Julius seemed unfazed by my sudden crisis of conscience.
“So, if you’re going to be my baby mama, you should have a nickname.”
I closed my eyes and let out a breath.
I was going to kill Clay for doing this to Julius, for involving me in his crazy plan—and all over football no less.
“Is Meg not sufficient?” I asked.
He shook his head and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. A chilly breeze blew, reminding me that I was wearing two coats and he wasn’t wearing any. That just added to the heaviness in my chest.
“Nah. You need something unique, like Shark or Bear Claw.”
Although I was feeling terrible, I actually managed to laugh at his awful attempt at nicknames.
“Are we in a motorcycle club I wasn’t aware of?”
“I know, I suck at naming things.” He peeked over at me. “Are you morally opposed to having a nickname? It’s kind of my thing. I’m the one that named Clay Blue. He wears it on his jersey now.”
After all the crap I’d pulled in the last forty-eight hours, being nicknamed was actually the thing I was least morally opposed to.
“No. I like the idea.”
“Okay then. I’ll think of one for you and you can think of one for me.”
I shrug. “I kind of like Hercules.”
He waved that comment away like he was swatting at a fly. I’d hate to be that fly—those hands would mean instant death.
“Nah, everyone calls me that, because of these.” He stepped in front of me and flexed his biceps. I watched the material of his button-up strain against his muscles. God, they were even bigger when he flexed them like that.
I couldn’t help myself. Who knew when an opportunity like this would happen again? I reached out my hand and raised my brow in question.
He knelt in front of me, a proud grin on his face.
Jeez, a girl could get used to this.
I placed tentative fingertips on the soft material, letting them linger on the hard man beneath. Were muscles supposed to feel like rocks? Granted, I’ve never touched a muscle before. Homer didn’t have any, and I was pretty skinny myself. Is this normal?
“They’re impressive,” I said, pulling my hand back while I still could. “How does one get muscles like that?”
“WAP.”
“WAP?”
“Work and protein.” He laughed, and I did too, wondering when was the last time I’d laughed like that.
He stood, and we fell back into our comfortable stroll.
“So,” he said. “When you’re not incubating humans, what do you do for fun?”
“Movies, mostly.”
“Cool. Me too. Marvel or DC?”
“Um…neither. I like more indie movies.”
He looked confused. “As in Indiana Jones?”
I threw my head back and rolled my eyes. “No. Independent movies. You ever heard of the Sundance Film Festival?”
“Yeah.”
“Those kinds of movies. I want to be a director someday.”
“A woman in charge—I like that.”
I smiled, feeling all…giggily.
“I’m the cinematographer in film club.”
“What’s a cinematographer?”
“I scope out locations, take pictures, make sure the lighting and mood is right in the shots, stuff like that.”
“That’s cool. So you like that, huh? Movies, photography, artsy stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Jeez, I don’t know any independent movies,” he confessed, “but I’d love to watch a few wit
h you. Who knows, maybe I’ll get into it.”
“Well, I have a ton, so whenever you’re ready.”
“How about tomorrow night? You could take my picture and we can watch a flick.”
He struck a pose that was actually very photo-worthy. I took him in, from his blue eyes to his broad shoulders. Julius was beautiful, and he’d be stunning on camera. I was sure I could capture him in a way no one else could. My heart beat excitedly at the thought.
“I—” I stopped myself.
This whole thing was going to be over tomorrow. When I got home, I’d call Clay and tell him I was out and that would be the end of it. I couldn’t set up any more dates with Julius because we didn’t have tomorrow. That meant no movie nights, and definitely no pictures.
I sighed.
“Sure.”
Another lie. How many lies had I told in the last few days? I couldn’t keep track.
He held the car door for me again, and I climbed in. Though I was more than warm, I wrapped his coat tighter around me, inhaling his scent and feeling his heat.
He climbed into the car and rubbed his hands together, warding off the chill.
“Do you want your coat back?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. It’ll warm up in a few minutes. Besides, it looks better on you anyway.”
I blushed. Like an idiot, I blushed.
I’m so stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I leaned my head back in the seat, imagining wringing Clay’s neck the moment I saw him again.
“So, do you like music?” he asked, turning on the radio.
“Yeah.”
“Let me guess—country?” He turned on the country music station and watched my expression. I lifted a disbelieving brow.
“Do I look like a country girl?”
“No. How about classical? All you film geeks like classical, right?”
“Ha! Film geek—such a jock thing to say.”
I plucked a receipt from the cup holder, balled it up, and threw it at him.
“You know what I mean. Now, answer the question: are you a classical girl?”
“No. I’m not a classical girl.”
He changed the station again, this time to rock. I hated the screaming and banging.
“Nope.”
“Okay, one more.” He turned to the pop station.
I immediately recognized the song.
“Quit Playing Games With My Heart” by The Backstreet Boys.
I bit my lower lip.
“This? You’re a popper?”
“It’s a guilty pleasure!” I cried back. “If anyone asks, I listen to smooth jazz.”
He laughed and banged his hands on the steering wheel.
“That’s amazing! Utterly and totally amazing.”
“Don’t tease me about it.”
He started belting out the chorus in the most horrendous singing voice I’ve ever heard. It was less like singing and more like a drunk guy yelling at a frat party—no rhythm, no pitch, nada. Still, he was singing one of my favorite songs, and it was nice to know there was something he wasn’t good at. It made him feel more…mortal.
We screeched and yelled to pop music for the twenty-minute drive back to Woodhaven, Queens. It was almost a shame when we pulled in front of my house. I was having fun. It was like those last, desperate moments right before an amusement park closes. You just had to squeeze in one more ride, one more ice cream cone, one more handful of popcorn—just a little more fun. I hated to admit it, but I didn’t want this night to end.
It had to, though.
This whole thing—whatever Julius and I were doing—it had to end.
I looked at my house, with its white columns, strong wooden doors, and big, wooden gate. It suddenly seemed too luxurious for people who were drowning in debt like my family was.
“Thanks, Julius,” I said. “I had a great time.”
“Me too,” he said. “You’re a fun girl Meg. I’m glad I got to know you. I think we’ll be all right.”
I gave him a weak smile.
“Yeah, we’ll be all right.”
He climbed out of the car and came around opened my door. I must’ve been getting used to it because I actually waited for him to come over instead of trying to fling it open myself.
Like I said, I’m an idiot.
He walked me to my door and stood on the bottom step while I let myself in.
The key turned, signifying that our night was over.
Why did it feel so final?
Why did it make me so sad?
“Good night, Julius,” I whispered.
“Good night, Coats.”
I wrinkled my brows.
His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.
“That’s it! Coats! It just rolled off of my tongue, I swear.”
I shook my head. “Because I’m wearing…”
“Two coats! And because your last name is Kotopuli so…”
I laughed—really laughed. It was a bad joke to end a great night.
“Coats,” I said. I had to admit it had a certain ring to it. “I’ll take it. Good night…Golden Boy.”
“Golden Boy!” Julius said. He jogged up two steps and raised his hands for a high five. “That’s it. We’re official. Coats and Golden Boy! No going back now.”
“Yeah,” I said, smacking his palm with my own. “No going back now.”
We stood there for a moment.
The urge to photograph him was stronger now that I was close to my camera, and surely there was nothing wrong with taking just one picture, right? Something to remember him by.
“Can you wait here for a minute?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I ran into the house, grabbed my camera, and ran out again, silently shutting the door behind me. Mom was asleep and Dad was up watching a movie in the bedroom. I didn’t want to disturb them.
When I reappeared, Julius’ eyes fell to my camera.
“Do you think I could take just one picture?” I asked.
His grin was like sunshine—bright and warm.
“Sure. How do you want me?”
The question sent shivers through me, but I pushed the thoughts away.
It’ll all be over tomorrow, I reminded myself. Tonight is all we have.
A cave of sadness opened in my chest, but I couldn’t dwell on it. I couldn’t let myself become attached to Julius. We were a sinking ship, and I was doing my best to keep my head above water.
“Maybe near the tree?” I said.
We walked over to the tree, and I positioned him. Standing there, illuminated in pale light, he looked so beautiful. I didn’t have to, but I placed my hand on his chin, tipping it upward and to the left, as if he were looking out into the distance.
Perfect.
“So, you just want me to stand here?” he asked.
I rubbed my fingers together to take away the tingle Julius’ skin had given them.
“Just look…majestic,” I said.
He snorted. “Majestic? Like a horse?”
I laughed, trying to find the right word. “No, not like that. Like…a hero.”
He seemed to understand this and struck a heroic pose: hands on hips, chin lifted, body strong. I snapped five pictures, then started moving around him. The camera loved him, and the pictures were so gorgeous I could barely contain my squeals of delight.
I couldn’t get enough of him. I snapped photo after photo until my fingers were sore.
Until I could bear the thought that this gorgeous boy and I were over.
After tomorrow, he’d probably never speak to me again.
I dropped my hands to my side, drinking in my fill of him.
“How about one more?” He reached for me, and I allowed him to pull me close. He gently lifted the camera from my fingers and stooped down so we were ear to ear.
“Where’s the shoot button?”
I stifled a laugh.
“It’s called a shutter release, and it’s on th
e left,” I said.
He moved his fingers around until he touched on the correct button.
“Okay, on the count of three,” he said, positioning the camera above us. His hand went around my waist, sending an electric jolt through my body. When our sides touched, I stopped breathing. “One, two, three.”
The camera flashed. I was sure I looked like a frightened deer. Julius did frighten me, though not in a scary way. I knew he would never hurt me physically, but when he found out what I’d done, he’d hate me, and if I was honest with myself, I knew it would break my heart.
It’d only taken one night for Julius Samson to dig his way into my heart, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy to get him back out.
He handed me the camera.
“Can you send me a copy of the picture? It’s for my wall of fame.”
My brows rose.
“Wall of fame?”
“Yup. Family, friends, people who are special…you know.”
“Not really, but okay.”
He pulled me into a hug, and I clung to him.
“Don’t worry, Coats. Starting right now, consider yourself on my wall, and I’ll be on yours.”
He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, and I felt like I’d just sprouted wings.
He felt good. He smelled good. He was good. Julius was a good guy, the best I knew.
I hugged him a little tighter because I knew, after that night, I’d never get the chance again.
Finally, after an embrace that was far too short, I stepped away from him for what felt like the last time. My throat heated, and I sniffed back the tears that threatened.
“Good night, Julius.”
“See you tomorrow, Coats.”
Then he was gone, driving away in his old, beat-up car.
I wrapped his coat tighter around me, hoping to hold on to him for just a little longer.
6
No going back.
The words lingered in my subconscious and pulled at my moral compass. The more I pushed them down, the more they popped up. It was like playing whack-a-mole at bullet train speed. I rested my back against the bleachers, hoping none of my friends saw me. With my eyes closed, Julius’ gorgeous image floated by.
How messed up was I to have agreed to Clay’s plan in the first place? Seriously, who does that? I was ruining Julius’ life, and he didn’t deserve it, but how could I tell Clay that? And what about my tuition?