My phone alerts me of a text message right away, pulling me out of my reverie. It’s from, Josh.
Josh: WANNA GO FOR A WALK – OUR SPOT?
I do. We have so much we need to discuss
Me: YES. MEET YOU OUTSIDE
I feel frazzled as I slip on my flip-flops and pull my hair into a ponytail. As soon as I step outside though, I’m suddenly calm. His eyes meet mine and we both freeze—just staring at one another. He is still a distance away from me, leaning against his truck. My eyes study him to memory.
His hair is messy on the ends like he has just run his hands through it. He just stares at me. He doesn’t crook his finger for me to come to him. He doesn’t smile or smirk. He’s just watching me. Waiting.
I can’t read his expression. His eyes tell several stories, all at once. I slowly walk to him, and when I do, I have the sudden urge to cry, but I don’t.
I won’t give that school the satisfaction of hurting me. I won’t give Preslee the ability to put those doubts back in my head. I won’t give Dean the power to confuse me any longer. Their opinions—just shit I need to cover with dirt and keep on moving. Real life hurts—the potential of being apart hurts.
And now that I am up close to him, I see it—he is sad too. Why is it so hard for us to just open up to each other? We’re always walking on eggshells—afraid to crack the other.
“You okay?” he asks, looking at my eyes.
I shake my head and shrug, “I hate everyone. I hate life.”
He tucks a curl behind my ear. “Me too,” he whispers as he pulls me into a hug. “Let’s walk,” he says holding my hand and pulling me to follow him.
We start walking to the lake together, admiring the stars in the sky. I love that part of living here. The stars are always so bright. I wish Josh and I could just have peace—no thoughts of leaving or of change.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. I know I probably freaked you out. I was just having a bad day,” he says.
“It’s okay, Josh. I’m just worried about you—about us.” I admit.
He stops and turns me to him. “You never have to worry about us, Riley. Ever. I’m...” he runs his hand nervously behind his head, “I’m going to fix this.”
“Fix what?” I ask my voice barely above a whisper. Just tell me.
His eyes never waver away from mine as his mouth opens and shuts, and then he pulls my body to his and crashes his lips to mine. It’s the kiss—the desperate kiss. He pours everything into it—the words he can’t seem to say out loud—he tells me like this, and I take it because I feel the same desperation.
He pulls away and leaves me breathless. “What was that for?” I ask, touching my lips as they tingle.
He reaches his hand out and pads his thumb along my bottom lip. “Not that I need a reason to kiss you, but I missed you, and sometimes I can’t help but kiss you. I need to.”
I stare at him unable to ask the things I need to—to form the sentence that needs to be said for us to finally break this cycle of holding things in.
“I know we haven’t talked about this all week, but I saw the video. Are you okay?” he asks out of the blue.
I sigh and put my head down. “Not really. Everyone is saying that I was cheating on Dean with you, and then I cheated on you with him after it. They are saying that I’m a slut, and that you would climb in my bedroom at night so that we could...well, you know. But they are saying I was, or that I am sleeping with you both.”
And then Preslee...god, I hate her. I hate her so fucking much. I don’t tell him what she said—I can’t handle the truth if he let her do that to him.
He places his index finger under my chin and lifts my face to his. “Look at me. Nothing they say or think matters—we know the truth. I can guarantee you that when I find out who started this shit, and who put those notes in the guys’ lockers, I will raise all kinds of hell.”
“What notes?” I ask. I hadn’t heard about any notes. I notice his mouth set into a thin line and his eyes harden.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s all behind us now. We write our story—not them,” he says.
“Oh, and then the text messages. I’m getting weird text messages with um, dirty things...from guys at school,” I say.
“That would be because of the note. Do you know who’s sending them to you?” he asks.
“Some—not all.” I flip through my phone and show him the numbers that are visible. He reads a few messages and his eyes harden instantly. I’m afraid he is going to break my phone by how hard he is holding it. When he looks back up to me, a thousand things are hidden in the depths of his hazel eyes.
“It’s behind us,” he whispers more to himself than to me. It’s almost like he needs the mantra as much as I do.
“And then what? What’s next for us, Josh?” I ask, and in an instant, I see his fear. I regret the words instantly as the realization hits me that neither of us knows what might happen next. That’s the truth. That is the wall between us.
Surely he won’t still go to Louisiana, not now, not when we are finally together. Right? I mean, there is no way I could follow him there. I had barely got into UTA. My grades are shit, and my mom can’t afford out of state fees. What if he has no choice like I have no choice, but to stay here?
Shit. Shit. Shit.
How could we never have discussed this again? Why didn’t he tell me?
I can feel his eyes on me as a thousand and one thoughts and questions race through my mind. I don’t ask them all—the one asked was enough. I’m not sure he has the answers, or if today I could handle them.
As if Josh knows what I’m thinking or what I’m feeling, he embraces me. He pulls me to his chest, and he holds me like he understands I need him to. It’s always been like this—my pain is his pain. Our veins are connected to the same artery like that. Like when we were kids, and I skinned my knee, he would always put a Band-Aid on his own knee so I would feel better. Or when he was sick, I would only eat chicken noodle soup for dinner because I knew it would be what he ate. We mentally sympathized with one another.
His arms are wrapped around me, and I’m squeezing his shirt tightly in my hands as tears threaten to escape my eyes. He squeezes me tightly in return.
There is something to hugs—like some hugs are meant to comfort or console. Some hugs are short and friendly, and then there are these kinds of hugs—the kinds of hugs that answer unasked questions...we will be okay. We have to be.
I don’t know how long we stood like that...just embracing one another. It may have been just a moment or several long minutes. Either way, his arms around me make me feel better. Both of us are clearly on the edge, with our fears circling us like a whirlwind. The air is suffocating, and yet I need desperately to just breathe him in. I don’t want him to let me go—ever!
He walks me to my door, and I turn to look at him hoping he doesn’t see all of my questions hiding. He places his hand on my cheek, and I lean into his touch, “Nothing matters more to me than you. I thank god every day that we finally made it here—together. You asked what happens next for us,” he says in a hushed whisper.
I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for what I fear. His breath feathers across my face as he kisses each of my shut eyelids. His hands glide along my cheeks and to the nape of my neck where he pulls me closer to him. I can feel his breath on my lips, which part just a fraction. He breathes the words against my lips, words I want so badly to believe. “We just get better baby—stronger.” His lips press against mine, and this very kiss steals the breath right out of my lungs—slow, sweet and beautiful.
“Yeah?” I whisper against his lips.
“Yeah,” he says before that soft tender kiss becomes so much more—more demanding, insistent, desperate, and raw. He presses me to wall next to the door, caging me in as his tongue makes love to mine. His hand slips just under my shirt by my waist. I moan at the smallest touch on my skin and wish he would move it north. One of my hands are tangled into his hair, while the ot
her is touching his face. I want him so badly. Eventually, the kiss ends, and he rests his head against my forehead while we both catch our breath.
I have my window open listening to the wind howl as the clouds form various patterns in the sky. A storm is brewing. I love watching the clouds roll and the colors change as the storms near. We frequently have storms here—mostly around spring—some even severe enough to fear tornadoes. I have never been afraid. I like to stand outside and watch it—curious and intrigued.
Tonight’s storm frightens me, though, because it isn’t one in the sky. It’s a storm brewing of words in the window across from mine. Josh also loves the sound of rain, and he too has his window open. I’m sure he doesn’t anticipate my hearing this altercation between him and his dad. I know I don’t.
“Joshua Michael Parker!” His dad shouts.
“Sir?” Josh says, with all his manners in place.
“Care to tell me why your coach called me at work to inform me that you are wishing to withdraw your letter of intent?”
He changed his mind. Oh shit! That must be what he went to talk to the coach about, what he meant about fixing things.
“And then I get a call that you yelled at your teacher and left campus without permission. What is going on?” he asks.
“Isn’t it late for that dad? Joey would be giving you an ear full if she saw you eating ice cream this late.” Josh says, evidently trying to deflect the conversation. Joey is like little mother hen and rides his ass lately about his diet and keeping him healthy.
I’m trying to see inside his window without being noticed. I see Josh’s dad sit a bowl down on the dresser and cross his arms over his chest. “That’s why I’m eating it. She isn’t here to nag me. Now quit ya bitching about my ice cream and tell me what’s going on with you, kid.”
Josh has his guitar in his hand. He had been humming a melody that I was enjoying—his voice always soothing me to the core. Now, I am aware of how much I don’t like this conversation or the tone in Josh’s voice—no longer soothing.
“Dad, Louisiana is hours away from Riley. I don’t want to go anymore. I signed in February, and a lot has changed since then. I can stay here and not play football. You know? Just focus on school.” Yes, please.
“Listen, I know you and Riley have a good thing going on, and I don’t want to mess that up. It’s not that simple, though, Josh. UTA didn’t offer you a scholarship, and you already missed your chance with A&M when you signed with LSU. I’d have to pay out of pocket or get grants, Joshua. I can’t afford to do either. I have Joey to think about soon, as well. Louisiana offered you a full ride, son—for a year. You need to take it. It’s the best decision. You signed an agreement, and you need to follow through. Maybe Riley can transfer next semester and be with you.”
No, no, no. Now, what? My heart is beating erratically in my chest, my palms feel sweaty and I’m aware now of how much I’m scared of this. He has to go. He doesn’t have a choice.
Josh stands up and begins pacing his room. His fists are balled, and for a second, I worry he is going to hit his dad. He doesn’t. He runs his hands through his hair and looks to the ceiling as if the answers are written there. He takes a deep breath and sits back down. His voice is so low that I have to strain to hear him. “Dad, this could ruin us. Do you know how hard it was to get where we are? Do you?” He asks, and his dad nods—I can see his face falter, he is aware.
“That girl means everything to me, dad. Everything. Nothing matters more to me than her—not even football—and you’re telling me the best decision is to leave her? That isn’t an option for me. I won’t go to college then. I’ll just get a job. I’ll figure it out some other way.” Josh explains.
He’s willing to give everything up for me? I can’t let him do that. As much as my heart is shattering into a thousand tiny pieces, I know I can’t let him do that.
His dad’s shouts make me jump. “You will do no such thing, Joshua! College isn’t optional. You.will.go.”
Silence follows where I hear nothing until Josh’s dad speaks again—this time more composed. “Look, I’m sorry this situation is shit to you. But it is what it is, and you and Riley will figure it out. You need to realize that you are being handed an opportunity, son—one that could lead to something great. You are a quarterback, a damn good one. They signed you to take the place of Jessie Bridges when he graduates, which is in a year, son. That leaves an open college career for you. You can’t pass that up. Period. Now I’m going to bed. This decision is final. No more talk of releases. Do you hear me?”
The sound of thunder and a crash of lightening in the distance filter out Josh’s response. I’m staring at him through our open windows—wanting to just go hold him and tell him we will be okay. He must feel my eyes on him, or maybe he feels the need to do the same, because he turns his head—almost catching me watching.
I fall back on my bed as a sob overtakes me. My heart is crushed. I love him enough to let him go. I know he has to go, but everything in me is worried about what this means for us now. Life is unfair and cruel. Why give him to me just to take him away again? So much time has been wasted and now it’s slipping away—becoming borrowed and limited.
CHAPTER 10
Another damn roadblock, and another hurdle for us to climb—life is shit sometimes. I’m not sure why fate hates us so much, but she is a bitch. To every truth, every decision comes a consequence or action. What happens when your action tells the wrong truth, or your decision causes the worst consequence imaginable? How am I supposed to handle this one?
I can hear Riley crying through her window. I’m not sure why, but I have a sickening feeling in the pit of stomach when I realize her window is open, which means she could very well have overheard the argument with my dad. FUCK!
After a few hours, the silence becomes deafening, and I can’t stand it. It’s past midnight, and I can’t sleep. I toss and turn restlessly—worried about her. I look out the window and see that her window is still open, so just as I have many times before, I decide to climb through it.
I fall into her bed, wearing nothing more than my running shorts. Her breathing is shallow, and I assume she is sleeping. A sharp hiss escapes from her blanket as I climb under her covers and pull her back against me. “Shhh....,” I say to Tink moving her to the floor. Riley is wearing a t-shirt that has risen above her waist. I can feel her bare legs touch my skin—warm and soft. I fight the urge to touch her. I bury my head in her hair, and inhale the scent that has become my addiction. “I love you pretty girl, so much,” I whisper into her ear.
Her breathing changes, her body begins to shake and she sniffles. Shit! She is crying. She rolls over and wraps her arms around me and buries her head into my chest, which slowly becomes damp with tears. I rub her back and her hair as she softly cries. I can’t take it. It’s killing me. I pull her face into my hands and use my thumbs to wipe away her tears. I kiss her forehead, “I love you, Riley.” She shakes more. I kiss her cheeks, “I love you so fucking much, baby.” The need to hush her tears is overwhelming. I crush my lips to hers and she whimpers. Her body falls limp into the bed within my arms. The taste of her salty tears mixes with our kiss as one of my own meets them. “I love you, baby.” I can’t stop telling her—the need to reassure her is so strong.
“I love you, Josh. I love you so much it hurts.” I know why it hurts her, because it hurts me, too.
Our kiss deepens as emotions take over. She glides her hands over my skin as I kiss down her neck. She wraps her leg over my waist, and I let my hand travel down her leg to cup her ass. She moans, and either willingly or just by reaction she pushes her hip into me. She applies pressure on the hand she has on my chest to roll me onto my back and then she straddles me. Oh fuck! This is going somewhere I’m not prepared for—somewhere we can’t go tonight. We’re emotional—she’s emotional, and this decision can’t be made like this.
I’m talking myself off the ledge, and she is removing her t-shirt bearing her breas
ts to me. Oh, for the love of all that is holy—give me strength. I glide my hands up her stomach until she fits beneath my palms. She is perfect—so fucking perfect. Damn.
I flip her to her back in one quick motion causing her to gasp. I love the sound of it. I kiss her lips fervently now and full of the passion I feel. I lick a path down her neck and begin to kiss her in places my lips have never touched before.
She squirms as I suck her nipple into my mouth, and then the other. She grabs my face and pulls me to hers, “I love you. You love me. Make love to me, Josh.”
And here we are again—her begging me for the second time to do something I feel we can’t do because the situation is...all wrong.
The first time, she was drunk and pissed, and now she is upset and scared. No! Why can’t we get this right? I want to make love to her when the time is right. Not like this. Not because we are both scared.
I swallow the huge lump in my throat. “I love you. I want to show you just how much I love you, baby. But not now—not like this. You’re upset, emotions are high and we have so much to talk about before we take this next step. Please, baby, believe me when I say I want you so much. God, how I want you—but not tonight.”
She falls back into her mattress on a sigh, “I know.”
“What? You aren’t mad at me?” I ask.
She wraps her arms around my neck, “No, you’re right.”
I roll us back to our sides as we hold each other in silence—the sound of our breathing becoming so loud—until she breaks it. “I’m scared,” she says into my chest as she slowly strokes small circles over my stomach.
I pull her tighter to me feeling the same fear inside of me. I kiss her hair, “Me too, baby. Me too.”
She means too much to me to lose her over some game that I didn’t care about anymore. I care about her. I didn’t see the same future my dad saw for me—coach saw for me. My future is the brunette with eyes that reminded me of vacations at the beach—the girl in my very arms yet slipping away. My future is with Riley. I knew I had to do this, be away from her, though. I’ve feared it from the beginning. I have a plan B in play. I will do this for a year and transfer back home, I will get a job, shit I’d get two if I had to. We were going to have to discuss this soon. I’m just not sure either of us is ready. That is the last thought I have before I fall asleep.
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