Us At First

by Paige, Lindsay

  “Ian Rhett,” he finishes, recognizing me now. Honestly, I’m surprised. I didn’t think he remembered all of his patients, but it seems that he remembers me at least. “How do you know him?”

  “I just do.” She takes my hand and stands close to me, which makes me stand a little taller, feeling proud as hell for some reason. To onlookers, it may appear as if we’re a couple because of the hand-holding and how close we are. “The service should start soon, right? We’re going to find a place to stand.”

  “There’s a seat for—”

  “But not for him,” she interrupts. “We’ll stand. It’s fine.” She walks away, pulling me with her, before he can say another word. Once she stops, I decide to roll with what feels right and pull her back against me into a hug.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Fine.”

  “Liar.”

  She only shrugs. “I can’t believe you came for this.”

  “Felt like I should.”

  “We just met yesterday.”

  “What’s your point, gorgeous? We’re friends already, aren’t we? You needed a friend and besides, you can tell Logan about my good deed and then he won’t think Dad and I will kidnap you.” Sydney jerks her head up from where it was resting on my shoulder with questioning eyes. “I was sitting next to you; I eavesdropped on your texts.”

  Her eyes widen. “That’s not cool.”

  “Sorry.”

  The texts were a bit entertaining, and it was nice to see that someone in her family was concerned about her. My apology isn’t genuine; I’m sure Sydney can tell, but the crowd has gathered as the service is about to start. Two sentences in is when Sydney loses it. She starts crying quietly at first. I hug her tighter. As they get a little louder, I rub her back and turn her face inward to my neck to muffle her cries. Her father sends me glares and I send them right back. He should be the one to comfort her. Forgetting her and not paying any attention to her led her right to me. He can’t be pissed at me for being able to take advantage of that.

  “Take me away,” she whispers. “I said goodbye already; I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  My body moves before I can fully register what she said. I lead her to my car, not sure yet where we’ll go. We drive around first. Her tears slow.

  “Thanks. Can we go to your house? Is your dad there?”

  “Yeah to both. You okay?”

  “Yeah. It hadn’t hit me until then that she was really gone. I mean, I said goodbye, but hearing that man talk about her?” She shakes her head and wipes a few stray tears. “And I’m kind of pissed, too. Like, I could’ve spent more time with her if Dad hadn’t moved away and took her with him when she wasn’t doing well. What’s wrong with the care she could’ve gotten back at home?” She wipes a few more tears away with a small laugh. “I swear, I don’t cry all the time.”

  “I believe you.” My house isn’t too far from the cemetery, so we get there quickly. Sydney seems to visibly relax at the sight of Dad’s truck. Ah, so she doesn’t want to be alone with me. I park my car behind his truck and jog around to open the door for her. We walk inside, holding hands like it’s completely normal and as if we do it all the time. I wish.

  “Ian? You’re back already?” Dad calls from the kitchen.

  “Sydney’s with me,” I say as we walk into the room.

  “Oh, hey. How are you?”

  Sydney shrugs.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Dad fixes all of us drinks while I grab cookies from the pantry. We sit at the table.

  “Do you want to talk about her?” I gently ask Sydney.

  She nods, and soon, Dad and I are learning all about her grandmother. At times, she cries. But she also laughs and smiles. It seems to be very therapeutic for her. Her grandmother sounds like a hoot. She seemed to be a stubborn, snippy, and funny woman. Really, she seemed like the best of the old people. When her phone starts ringing midway through, she silences it to ignore any more calls.

  Finally, Sydney seems to be finished.

  “When do you go home?” Dad asks the very question I’ve been wondering and the answer to which I’m dreading a little.

  “Tomorrow, thankfully.”

  “Do you need a ride to the airport?” I ask.

  Her cheeks burn with embarrassment and I hate that I asked. “No, my dad should be able to take me. Thanks, though.”

  “Just let us know,” Dad says, stealing the words from my mouth. “We should probably eat something other than cookies. I’ll start lunch.”

  “Come on, Sydney. I’ll give you a tour.”

  She’s already seen the living room because we had to walk by it to get to the kitchen. I show her the dining room we rarely use, the formal living room we also never use, and then we head upstairs. She gets a peek into my dad’s simple bedroom before I take her to mine.

  “Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said you played hockey, were you?”

  “Nope.” There’s gear everywhere, plus I have posters and such of my favorite hockey team on every wall, too. “Have you ever skated before? We could go down to the rink after lunch if you want? I could teach you.”

  She laughs softly while running her fingers over team pictures. “I have zero athletic ability, so it might not be much fun.”

  My phone vibrates in my pocket with a text from Bruce. “A bunch of my friends are headed there soon, if you wanted to meet them. Or we can hang out here with my dad.”

  Sydney glances down at her dress and picks off some imaginary lint. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

  “Sure? Because I don’t care either way.”

  “Yeah, let’s meet your friends.”

  I nod. “Let’s see if Dad needs any help.” As we walk down the stairs, I ask, “So, when do I get to see your bedroom?”

  The blush that blossoms on her face is the exact reason I asked. She shocks the hell out of me when she gives me a little smile that has a bit of naughtiness in it and says, “Whenever you come down for a visit.” What she says surprises me so much that I almost stop walking. One day, I will see her bedroom.

  We have lunch with my dad and then head down to the ice rink. It’s a local place that also houses an arcade and a restaurant. It pretty much stays busy. I didn’t change out of my suit since Sydney would be stuck in her dress. I can move around on skates wearing anything, so I’m not worried about that. Plus, Sydney may want my jacket because it’ll be cold inside and the sleeves of her dress are barely covering her shoulders.

  Bruce starts laughing when he sees me. “What the hell are you wearing, Bruiser?”

  Ugh. That stupid nickname. As soon as I get out of this town, my nickname will become mine because of my play as a defenseman on the ice and because I like to give bruises—not because I bruise super freaking easy and my current teammates find it hilarious.

  “I just left a funeral, so shut the fuck up.”

  That’s when he notices Sydney. “Who is this?” He grins like a cat who caught a mouse.

  I slide an arm around her waist and pull her against my side. “This is Sydney Jarvis. She’s in town visiting.” To her, I say, “This dumbass is my best friend, Bruce.”

  They say hello and I drag her away to get her situated with some skates.

  “So, they call you Bruiser?”

  “Yeah, and the real reason sucks, so please don’t ask me to tell you why.”

  She grins. “Oh, you shouldn’t have said that. You should’ve lied. Why is that your nickname?”

  I motion for her to sit on the bench and kneel before her. Talking about my stupid nickname is not enough of a distraction from the fact that I’m about to slip a pair of my socks on her feet and then a pair of skates. I’ll touch feet and ankles, which aren’t that great in and of themselves, but they are attached to a fantastic pair of legs that are right there. Right in front of my face. Her dress drapes around her thighs a few inches above her knees to entice me furth
er. That shouldn’t drive me crazy, shouldn’t make me wonder about what’s underneath, shouldn’t make my legs weak. Thank fuck I’m kneeling is all I have to say.

  “Because you could lightly punch my arm and I’ll bruise. What’s the saying? Something about a peach?” I manage to answer her.

  Sydney holds her stomach and starts laughing. “You bruise like a peach?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Stop laughing at me, gorgeous. It’s not nice.” I’ve never called a girl gorgeous so much in my entire life. Hell, I don’t think I’ve said the word as much as I have since I met Sydney, but she is and I can’t stop calling her that. It flows off the tip of my tongue like it’s her name and that’s what I’m supposed to call her.

  “Sorry, but that’s hilarious.”

  “I hate it.”

  “I bet you do. I like it.”

  “Of course,” I mutter, coming to sit next to her to put on my own pair of skates. “So, just remember that if you grab my arm too hard or make us fall, I’ll tell all the guys that you gave me those bruises doing other things.” I wiggle my eyebrows and grin.

  She rolls her eyes and punches my arm. Bruce sits down on the other side of her, now wearing a pair of skates.

  “So, will you be in town long?”

  “No, she won’t,” I answer. Bruce isn’t about to steal her away from me. He needs to know there’s no hope for him. “She’s leaving tomorrow, so go find someone else to give creepy eyes to.”

  He eyes me for a moment and I stare hard. I’m not fucking around; he needs to get that message loud and clear. “I’m going to find everyone else.” He stands and is soon on the ice.

  “Are you always mean to your friends?” Sydney asks.

  “Not always, and I wasn’t mean. I saved you from getting hit on while we’re here.” She rolls her eyes as I stand. “Come on; let’s teach you how to skate.”

  It’s an extremely slow process because Sydney is worse than a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time. She glares at me constantly because I can’t stop laughing at her. I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t at least stay upright for five seconds on skates. If she wasn’t wearing a dress, I’d make her jump onto my back and I’d carry her around the ice. It’s tempting regardless, but I don’t think she’d go for it.

  Bruce and a few of the other guys hang out around us. I’m glad they don’t embarrass her by commenting on her obvious lack of skill. We have a good time. As the minutes pass by, I find myself wishing she didn’t have to leave tomorrow.

  “Can I be the one to take you to the airport?”

  Sydney’s eyes widen. I’ve finally gotten her to a point where she keeps her feet relatively still and together while I pull her around. “Why?”

  I shrug. “I’d be more fun, and it seems only fair that since I made sure you safely left the airport, that I make sure you safely make it back there.”

  “Seems like a farfetched reason,” she teases.

  “Come on, gorgeous. You can’t honestly say you’d rather have your father take you. You’ve been avoiding him since you’ve been here.”

  “Which could be a reason why he should take me,” she points out.

  “Could, but isn’t.”

  “Do you ever give up?”

  I shake my head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  That makes her smile. “If my dad doesn’t care, then sure, you can take me.”

  And because I want to spend even more time with her, I ask her to have dinner with Dad and me tonight. When she accepts, I wrap her arms around my waist, try not to think about how close her body is to mine, and focus on texting my dad to let him know.

  “How many best friends do you have?” I ask.

  “Just one. Well, two if you count Logan. But her name is Carey. We used to hate each other and then I don’t remember what happened exactly, but we became friends in the fifth grade. She’s been the only solid friend I’ve been able to keep so far while growing up.”

  “What is she like?”

  “She’s more outgoing than I am. She’s a straight shooter where I might beat around the bush. She’s honest, helpful, caring, and all the good traits you want in a friend. She talks to a lot of guys, but not sure if she’s ever serious with any of them at any point in time.”

  “What about you?” I interrupt, not caring at all about her friend even though I asked.

  “What about me?”

  “Do you talk to a lot of guys?”

  She laughs. “There’s never that many interested in me at the same time, so no.” That sentence doesn’t even make sense to me. How are all the dipshits where she lives not breaking down her doors and begging for a date?

  “Ever had a boyfriend?”

  She shakes her head, those freaking cheeks of hers turning a shade of pink. Damn it, I want to kiss her again. I have to kiss her before she leaves. Who knows when I’ll see her again. If I’ll ever see her again. God, what if I never see her again? I despise thinking it.

  Sorry, Dad. I’m so fucking attached. I don’t know how or why, but I am.

  Sydney is eyeing me curiously as she says, “What are you thinking about?”

  “Kissing you.” There’s no filter when it comes to me and her, and I don’t care because she sharply inhales in surprise, her gaze dropping to my mouth. My back bumps into the boards and brings us to a stop. That causes Sydney to bump into me. My hands are on her hips and I keep her nestled against me. I feel like I should ask for some stupid reason, but the signs are there. That’s all I need. Leaning in, my heart explodes as my mouth meets hers.

  The kiss from earlier was perfect.

  This one is somehow better.

  How is this even possible?

  Sydney leans into me. Her tongue tentatively traces my lower lip, so I grant her access and it’s like the shyness disappears with that. The kiss is just as hungry and demanding as before, but it’s like whiplash because it’s slower than the one on the plane. Sydney is in control here. She can do whatever she wants to me, and god, I hope she will.

  Before my grandma died, I had two best friends: Carey and Logan. After her funeral, I had three: Carey, Logan, and Ian. We kissed four times while I was there, as he made sure to kiss me before I left his house after having dinner with him and his dad, and then he kissed me when we were once again at the airport. I went from having never been kissed to having been kissed four times in the span of a weekend.

  I still think it’s the craziest thing to ever happen to me.

  Ian texts or calls me every single day. We talk about nothing, our families, our friends, school, and each other. He’s become my go-to person, though I’d never say that to Logan or Carey. They both think we talk too much. The last thing they need to know is that on the best friend tier, Ian is at the top.

  Things have become confusing, too. I like Ian. The more I talk to him, the more I like him. I smile when he calls me gorgeous. I get irritated when he says stupid shit to get a rise out of me, which seems to be something he immensely enjoys. We’ve even exchanged some dirty texts. That’s also a first for me. Ian Rhett seems to be taking all of my firsts. That’s something I like and something that scares me at the same time. But where Ian is concerned, I seem to have some confidence that I definitely don’t have with other guys.

  I’ve almost asked if I could visit my dad again, but every time I want to ask, Ian ends up having some hockey thing to do or he’s down in Florida visiting his mother, so it wouldn’t work. Plus, I’m too chicken to ask him if he’d want to see me again. It’s been a year since we’ve seen one another. I ache to see him. Sometimes, it’s unbearable. So unbearable that it’s tempting to ask if I can move in with my dad.

  Yeah.

  I get that desperate to see him.

  And then, there’s a day like today.

  Me: Someone asked me out today.

  Ian: You should go as long as he doesn’t drive a squatted truck. Where does he want to take you?

  I hate that he wants me to go. This is
the third time he’s told me to go on a date with someone. Yeah, I realize we live in different states, miles and miles apart, and I don’t know what I expect, but I do know that I don’t want him to easily tell me to go on a date with someone. I only tell him about the prospective date because he was the first to mention how he was going on a date with some girl who obviously isn’t me.

  Ian can be confusing. He seems to like me, but he doesn’t mind sharing when he’s with other people. I think he does it partly to get a rise out of me. I can never tell for sure, though. He still talks to me just as much, too. Sometimes, he’s texting me while he’s hanging out with them, which makes me feel guilty and I shouldn’t since we’re just friends. I know that’s what we are, but it doesn’t feel like that all that time. I don’t want us to be that, even though I don’t see how we could be anything other than that.

  So, I tell him about these dates and stupidly wish he’d tell me not to waste my time.

  That’s what I’d be doing regardless.

  Both dates I’ve been on eventually end with me being dumped in one way or another. Maybe there’s only one date, or there’s a couple and then the guy acts like he doesn’t even know me. I really don’t want to go through that for a third time.

  Sighing, I answer Ian.

  Me: Movies.

  Ian: Again? Don’t you guys have something else to do besides that?

  Me: Apparently not.

  Ian: Well, go anyway. Hey, have you checked the mail today? If not, check it.

  “Mom!” I shout as I leave my room.

  “What?” she yells back from the kitchen.

  “Did I get something in the mail?” I ask as I find her making dinner.

  “Oh, yeah. The package is on the table. I think it’s from your dad.”

  The return address doesn’t include a name, so she probably saw the state and assumed so. “Thanks.” I grab it and rush to my room. I love getting packages from Ian. He sent me a necklace with my birthstone in the pendant for Christmas. I’ve yet to take it off, though I’d never tell Ian that. His ego would cause his head to grow so big, it’d explode. And Ian definitely has one at times. He also sent me a package in February. He said it was just because, that it had nothing to do with a certain love-centered holiday. It was a simple gold anklet. Haven’t taken that off yet either.