Just a Boyfriend

by Wilson, Sariah

  Or when I had irrationally and secretly blamed him for somehow causing my mom to have breast cancer by moving out. Even though I logically knew those two events were totally unrelated, one had happened right after the other, and I had somehow held him responsible for it. It seemed silly that I continued blaming him, especially considering she was fine now. Maybe what I’d really blamed him for was not being there when I needed him to be. I had wanted to lean on him, confide in him, and tell him how terrified I was that my mother was going to die and leave me and Lauren alone in the world. I hadn’t even hated him then.

  Bash turned toward me. “Really?”

  His voice caught at the end, and I wrapped my arms around myself so that I wouldn’t go over and hug him. I just nodded instead.

  Because I had been right. I didn’t need his apology. I needed him to go away. To go back to Pennsylvania and out of my life. It felt like I had only recently started filling in the Bash-shaped hole he’d left in my heart.

  But he seemed determined to absolve himself. He moved until he was standing right in front of me, so close that we could have kissed. I felt that old electrical surge spark between us, lighting up every molecule in the air around us. Goose bumps broke out on my skin when he started to speak, and his warm, minty breath washed across my face.

  I had hoped that when we saw each other again, I’d be immune to him and his charm and his magnetic pull on me.

  Not so much.

  “I wish we were still friends,” he said. “I know it’s not fair to ask that of you, but I do miss you.”

  They were words I’d been dying to hear for so long—I miss you—that when he said them I felt totally overwhelmed. So I focused on the other part of what he’d said. I needed him out of my life, not saying things that made me want to cling to him. “I don’t know. I think asking an ex to be friends is kind of like your dog dying but saying we could still play with him.”

  “Maybe the dog didn’t die and just went upstate to Grandma’s farm in New York.”

  “Pennsylvania,” I corrected him. That was where our friendship had wandered off to.

  “No matter where he went off to, we could bring him back.”

  Did I want that? Could I handle it? Being friends with Bash? We’d never really been just friends. “I don’t know. I have a lot of dogs already.”

  There was a brief flash of his gorgeous smile before his face turned serious again. “I guess I deserve that. Especially since when I left, I should have talked to you first. I should have explained why I was doing what I did.”

  Then he did something that literally made me jump. Almost out of my skin. He reached for my left hand, enveloping it with both of his. The shaking started up again, only this time it was with excitement and not despair. How could he still have this effect on me? My erratic and too-loud heartbeat was making it difficult to hear what he was saying, and I had to force myself to concentrate.

  His voice had gone husky with an emotion I couldn’t identify. “We were so young. And I was just . . . immature, and I hadn’t realized that—”

  I heard someone clearing their throat and turned to see my mother standing in the doorway. I yanked my hand out of Bash’s and ignored the way that it still tingled. She had a weird expression, one I couldn’t quite place, but it looked a bit like she was worried we were up here about to have sex.

  I mean, to be fair, that exact situation had nearly almost happened in this same place, so she had justifiable cause to be alarmed if that was what was bothering her. “Don’t we have a no-boys-allowed-in-your-room policy?” She was going for a light, teasing tone, but I could hear the concern. I wasn’t sure why, because I’d never given her any reason to worry about Bash since I’d never told her the details of what had transpired between us. “It’s time for dinner. Ian, your father is looking for you. Ember, I could use your help in the kitchen.”

  Bash nodded and left without another word. I, on the other hand, knew something was immediately up, because my mother did not ask for help ever. Even when she needed it. She was determined to never be a burden to her family, even when she was in the midst of treatment.

  I found it highly annoying.

  Her current expression was also annoying me. “I’m not fourteen. You don’t need to kick boys out of my bedroom and embarrass me.”

  My mother feigned outrage. “Embarrass you? When have I ever embarrassed you?”

  I loved this woman with my whole heart, but she had to be kidding. “Um, every single day of high school? My volleyball games? Senior prom? The mall, several times?”

  “That’s called being a good mother,” she said, reaching over to kiss me gently on the cheek. “Come on, help me with dinner.”

  As I followed behind her, I realized that she probably really did need my help, because Bash could eat like a pillaging horde. Which would be good at dinner because then his mouth would be full the whole time, and we’d get through tonight, and school was starting up in a few weeks, and I had volleyball practices to get to, and I could forget that Bash had ever waltzed back into my room, apologized, and been about to say . . .

  What? What had he been going to tell me? For years I had wondered why he had left. Had he been about to confess the reasons? What hadn’t he realized? That women came in different sizes? That not everyone had rock-hard abs? That my curvy hips were not a reason to flee across the country?

  I needed to stop wondering. I was done giving him the power in our situation. His reasons didn’t matter. Especially since he was probably only sharing them to ease his guilty conscience. I shook my head. The past was in the past, and I needed to move forward with my life. It was good that I’d seen Bash and good that our first encounter wasn’t terrible and I hadn’t screamed and/or sobbed at him.

  But after tonight? I was going to stay far, far away from Ian Douglas “Bash” Sebastian.

  CHAPTER TWO

  BASH

  “Everybody, dig in,” Tricia said, handing me a plate with pieces of roast chicken on it. Instead of dumping the entire platter onto my plate, I only took some of the dark meat and passed it to Marley, on my right. Ember was seated directly across from me, carefully not making eye contact.

  This was not how I had hoped things would go, but I couldn’t say I was surprised by it. I deserved her coldness.

  Last year, when my university kicked me off the football team for failing a drug test (not once, not twice, but three whole times) because I decided that marijuana was a better medication for my depression than, you know, actual depression medication, I had quite a few offers from junior colleges. My hope was to play a year and then get recruited by another Division 1 school.

  When Coach Stan Oakley came personally to invite me to his team at Edwin O’Leary College (also known as End of the Line to Division 1 rejects like myself), I immediately said yes, knowing that it was half an hour from my childhood home. A home I hadn’t stepped inside for over three years. Until tonight.

  The truth was, I’d missed my dad. And my little sister. I’d been sure to text them and make face-to-face video calls with them almost daily, but it wasn’t the same. I’d hoped enough time had passed, that things had changed, and that I could come home again.

  But it had only taken thirty seconds for me to realize none of that was true.

  She’d been the one I’d been most afraid to see again. Not Marley, who constantly bugged me about coming back. Not my dad, who as a former drug addict had been sorely disappointed in me taking an illegal substance and getting thrown off my team. Not Tricia, who had never really warmed up to me.

  Just Ember.

  It might have helped if I’d walked into this situation with any information about my opposition. I was fanatical about watching film before any game, but I’d come into this blind.

  Mostly because it had been the only way to try to move on from Ember. I was so careful. No deep diving on her social-media accounts. No emailing. No texting. When I chatted with my family, I hadn’t asked about her or what she
was doing. Total cold turkey.

  Which meant that I had suffered some emotional and mental withdrawals that had led to several bad decisions (including the self-medicating), but I had done it. My life had been an Ember-free zone.

  Today, when my new coach announced that there would be no alcohol, no drugs, no failing grades, and no women/dating allowed, it had been fine with me. I’d done it before. It had only been the one woman, but I had successfully sworn her off.

  Until I saw her again.

  As the inside linebacker it was my job to take down offensive players trying to score. I was the one who tackled them and stopped them. When I saw Ember on those stairs, I suddenly had some idea of what those players must have felt. I was stunned. The wind had been knocked out of me. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath, and the only thing I could do was lie on the ground wondering what had just happened.

  Because somehow she’d grown even more beautiful than I would have imagined possible.

  And I still wanted her with a fierceness that shocked me.

  Those feelings probably would have scandalized everybody in the dining room, so I kept that information to myself.

  The conversation flowed easily as everyone else talked about their day. I mainly focused on eating. It was one of my favorite things in the entire world to do. I was six foot six, worked out every day, and spent a good amount of time running. I needed lots of calories just to feel normal.

  “And, Ian, how did your meeting go today?” Tricia asked with a smile as she passed me the basket of rolls. I only took four, which I thought was admirable. My father must have told her about the meeting, because I hadn’t mentioned it.

  “Meeting?” Marley echoed, looking confused.

  “I had a team meeting today. I’m moving here and playing football for EOL.”

  “What?” my sister shrieked, and then threw her arms around my neck. Considering that I had just taken a big bite of chicken, she was lucky I hadn’t accidentally removed a chunk from her arm.

  I saw the alarm in Ember’s eyes. “You’re going to EOL? I go to EOL.”

  “Yes, Ember earned a scholarship to play volleyball,” Tricia said, the pride in her voice clear.

  No one had mentioned that to me. That don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy of mine was coming back to bite me in the butt. Ember and I would be going to the same college?

  “You didn’t tell them I was moving here?” I asked my dad, confused.

  “I thought you might like to be the one who did.”

  If I had known it was a surprise, I would have figured out a better way to do it than this. I would have told Ember upstairs when we weren’t surrounded by both of our families so that she could have some time to deal with it beforehand.

  “Are you going to live here at home?” Marley asked, the excitement shimmering off her in waves.

  “Not here. I have a place and a roommate. His name’s Logan. He’s the quarterback. He seems cool.”

  My sister hugged me tight one last time and released me. Lauren, whose gaze was still fixed on her phone, asked, “Is this Logan hot?”

  Both Tricia and my dad made “whoa” type sounds. “Way too old for you, Little Miss,” Tricia said with a warning tone.

  “The guys my age suck. It’s so much work trying to change them into humans,” Lauren grumbled, and Marley nodded vigorously.

  “Don’t ever think you can change men. Men don’t change just because a woman wants them to,” my dad said, imparting this fatherly wisdom like it had come from the heavens themselves.

  Ember shook her head. “Ha. Says the man who watches every film version of Pride and Prejudice with my mother several times a year.”

  I was eating, and so when I guffawed at her apparently accurate description of my dad (given his sheepish grin), I nearly spewed all over the table. I had to cough several times, and Marley thumped me on the back, afraid that I might be choking. When I swallowed down my food, I grinned at Ember.

  There was this . . . moment. Where we were us again. Sharing an inside joke, since watching Pride and Prejudice had been one of our very first dates. It was extra credit for English that had turned into something more. But the second I saw that she realized what was happening, the twinkle in her soft hazel eyes faded.

  “So,” she said, turning toward her mother. “Was there something you wanted to tell us?”

  Tricia and Dad glanced at each other from the head and foot of the table, and both put their forks down.

  “There is,” Tricia said. She let out a little breath, looking to my father for comfort. He smiled back at her. “My latest blood work showed elevated white-blood-cell counts. The doctor wants to run some more tests.”

  Ember gasped while Lauren put her phone down.

  While I was concerned for everyone at the table, I couldn’t help but focus on Ember, whose face had gone pale, the color draining away.

  I wanted more than anything in the world to get up, walk around the table, and take her in my arms to comfort her. Not like a stepbrother.

  Like a boyfriend.

  But I knew it was impossible. Not only because of Coach’s no-dating rule, but because of my dad’s.

  He and Tricia had met because of me. I wasn’t doing so great in my US Government class, and she called him for a parent-teacher conference. They ended up chatting for two hours, only my father didn’t think it was appropriate to try and date his son’s teacher.

  If only things had ended there.

  Instead Tricia used gardening shears to cut a fan belt in her car and called my father, the mechanic, to fix it for her. When he saw all the gouges and marks on the belt and realized that she had probably spent hours trying to slice through that thing with a variety of different tools, he decided to ask her out.

  Three weeks into their relationship, they snuck away to Las Vegas. I couldn’t even recall what he’d told me about why he’d be out of town, only that I needed to keep an eye on Marley. I remembered being excited because I had hoped to invite Ember over. Only she got sick and stayed home. Meanwhile, Tricia drank all the alcohol from their minibar and decided it would be the best idea in the world to get married, and my normally down-to-earth father agreed.

  And they didn’t annul it like most people would have. No, they wanted to try and make things work because they were madly in love. They planned to move in together.

  Once I mostly processed my shock that my father had not only eloped but had eloped with my girlfriend’s mother, and shortly after the Carlsons had moved in, he sat me down and told me his expectations when it came to Ember Carlson. He told me that he expected me to be respectful and keep my distance from Ember because despite the fact that we hadn’t been raised together, he and Tricia were trying to create a family.

  “It just can’t turn out well, son. If something happened with you two, you’re still going to have to see each other at Christmas for the next thirty years. Don’t mess that up.”

  He said it like he somehow knew about us, even though I hadn’t said a word. He had no idea that Ember and I had been dating for the last few months, and that I had planned on asking her to prom. I wondered if I was just so obvious with my feelings and he’d read it on my face every time Ember walked into a room.

  Although I was stupid and basically a giant walking hormone, I knew he was right. I had to end things between us.

  Judging by how she’d reacted upstairs when I’d tried to talk to her, I had done a really bad job of it.

  Now I was back, looking for a second chance with everybody. I didn’t want to screw this up again.

  “When will you know, Mom?” Lauren asked. “Whether or not you have a recurrence?”

  “The doctor will call as soon as she has more information,” Tricia promised, putting her hand on top of Ember’s. “But it got me thinking. Remission is not a cure. And really, none of us know how much time we have left. So I made up a bucket list, just in case. I’m hoping that you guys will help me cross some of those things off, because you’re t
he people I most want to spend my time with.”

  There was a chorus of “yes, of course, absolutely” from the girls at the table. I knew I was going to be busy for the next few months and couldn’t really commit to anything just then. More important, I needed to keep my distance from Ember. I felt my father’s eyes on me, but I stayed silent.

  That brought dinner to an end, even though I could have kept eating. Ember stood up and grabbed her mother’s plate along with her own and began clearing the table.

  “I can do that,” Tricia protested.

  “It’s okay, Mom. I’ve got it.” Ember left and went into the kitchen.

  “What should we do tonight?” Dad asked. “Watch a movie? Play a board game?”

  Lauren and Marley discussed possibilities for the evening with Tricia and my dad. I didn’t join in. Instead I reminded myself of my resolution to keep away, but I had to know if Ember was okay. I grabbed my plate and thanked Tricia for dinner, telling her it had been a long time since I’d had a home-cooked meal.

  When I got into the kitchen, Ember was pressed up against the sink, her head hanging down, shoulders slumped. I wondered if she was crying. And if she was, if she’d be mad at me for interrupting.

  I wanted to say, I’m so sorry about your mom.

  Or, Sorry I’m an idiot and I’m making your hard life harder.

  I settled on taking the light approach. “So what do you vote for? Movie or a board game?”

  She whirled around, and her eyes were bright, as if she’d been about to cry. “What? I don’t . . . I don’t care.”

  “You? Not care? The most competitive person I know?” My chest came in contact with her shoulder when I leaned over to put my plate in the sink. Another pang of desire speared through me. I wanted to put my hands on her shoulders and pull her in close, so I took two deliberate steps back. “You’re a crazy person when it comes to board games. Like the last time we played Monopoly.”

  We had played for eight hours straight until I’d finally emerged the winner.