Tell Me Something Real

  I watch Colt, noting the blinking eyes and jittery legs. When Beau brings his hand to the back of Colt’s neck, squeezing until their foreheads are touching, my own eyes sting.

  The band finishes, eyes are wiped, and parents are sent back to the stands while the seniors head back to the sidelines with their team. Colt and Ford spend a second longer together, a foot apart while they just stand and breathe. Finally, I see Coach motion to them and Ford nods at Colt, checking on him.

  Colt tips his chin, and together they run to the huddle.

  The game is long; it starts raining at kickoff, and maintains a steady stream. Our team seems to trade points with the opponent, scoring after they score, but never able to stop them from getting some kind of points on the board. Ford plays defense, like Colt, but he also plays offense, running the ball or setting a block for Landon or another runner.

  I focus on him the entire first two quarters, enamored with the way he moves, the way his body finds the energy to get up play after play, or make a hit after taking one two downs before. I marvel at his strength and his passion, and I begin to understand the enigma that is Ford Slaughter.

  He’s a protector, one who anticipates when one of his teammates is going to need help, and seems to always be there to give it. But, he’s also not afraid to look for weakness within the other team and exploit it.

  He protects who and what is his, and when he has to make tough choices, he does. Watching him play a balanced game—according to Evie, who knows way more about football than I do—of reason and risk, I understand this is also how he lives his life.

  When the whistle blows for half, I watch Ford take off his helmet and search the stands, so I stand on my tiptoes and wave. He grins, turning to walk back into the locker room.

  “So, you guys are pretty serious.”

  I look at Evie, whose got her mittened hands wrapped around a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate I think she bought more for warmth than the desire to drink it.

  “I could say the same about you and Colt.” She blushes, and I nudge her with my hip. “Are you happy?”

  She nods, eyes looking left and then right, like someone will jump out and make fun of her for admitting to happiness. “I am. I mean—there are times it almost seems like too much, nights when he calls me three or four times in a row until I pick up, telling me he’s waiting for me somewhere, or asking to sneak into my bedroom, or for me to sneak out of it. I do,” she says, and I see the guilt on her face. “Even though I’m a little scared, I do it every time. I can’t seem to not, even though I know my parents would kill me if they found out. The way he kisses me those nights…”

  She grabs my hand, and even though I want to yelp because holy-strong-hands, I just smile. “When we’re in his truck, or even when I’m shushing him to be quiet because my parents are in their room across the house, he kisses me like I’m someone he needs. I just—I never knew it could be that intense.”

  “Colt, he shows a lot of people only his happy side. The funny guy or tough guy side. But, there’s more to him,” I say.

  Evie nods, quiet for a minute, and I know we’re both thinking of the same thing. Finally, she clears her throat. “That day, in the hall when he yelled at you, he never told me what it was about.” She looks down at her cup that’s not steaming anymore. “I heard rumors, but when I asked him about them, he just said that people were always happy to talk about the Slaughters.”

  My stomach is tight, because I’ve never broken Colt’s trust, not ever. But right now, a part of me wants to tell Evie, to ask her to watch him and protect him, to keep answering her phone so he keeps reaching for her instead of the darkness. “Are you asking me to talk to you about the Slaughters, Evie?”

  She shakes her head, and my disappointment is almost as sharp as my relief. “I would never do that, Linc. You know that. I’m just telling you I understand there are things about him I might not ever know. I mean, I don’t even know if we’ll ever see each other again after graduation,” she says on a small laugh. “But I do know that being with him has made the beginning of my senior year better than any other year I can remember. I… just hope it’s done something good for him, too.”

  It’s me squeezing her hand now. “It has, Evie.”

  The team takes the field again, and I divide my attention between Colt and Ford. Both of them are powerful, their physical form just a notch above the others around them, and I wonder if they even realize how different—how special—they are. Next to me, Evie watches, too, and when our team can’t score near the end of the fourth quarter, letting Sprague score an unanswered touchdown, and then a field goal, time runs out on our season.

  +

  Evie

  The rumble of the large truck engine is the only sound coming from inside the cab.

  I’m next to Colt, both of my hands tucked tightly into the pockets of my jacket, my legs pressed together, and my feet tapping nervously on the floor. Colt sits a mere foot and change away, his broad body clothed in nothing but a gray sweatshirt, jeans, and his Romeos. There’s a dirty ball cap on his head, shadowing his face, but I know his jaw is tense, like his shoulders.

  His hands flex every so often on the steering wheel, and I watch them, wishing with every silent second that passes I was brave enough to reach out and put my hand on his forearm, or his thigh, and take some of whatever he’s feeling.

  I don’t, because no matter how much I can’t deny him, I also can’t read him. I wasn’t lying to Lincoln when I told her that I want to do something good for Colt. Since the very beginning of whatever we are, it’s been obvious he doesn’t believe in good, not when it comes to him.

  “I’m sorry about your season.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, feeling heat stain my cheeks. Reminding the already tense boy next to me about the loss he just endured? Not the way I was planning to break the tension.

  “Don’t be.”

  Those are the only words we exchange for the rest of the drive. When we pull up into the crowded parking lot of a rundown apartment complex, I go from being stressed out to just being confused. “Is this where the party is? I thought Kaz said something about his brother’s house.”

  Colt shakes his head and puts the truck in PARK, leaving his hand on the gearshift for a minute before turning the key. Silence descends, and I stare at him, confused and a lot concerned when he continues to say nothing.

  “Colt?”

  “I keep paying on it. No one lives here—unit four.” He points to the faded green door with a metal number four on it, two doors over from our parking space. “She’s not being released for at least a year this time, and still, I pay for it. It’s not even a home,” he sighs, still staring.

  I swallow, looking at the door and trying to see it through his eyes instead of my own. I understand why we’re here, even if I don’t understand what he just told me. Colt’s been showing me different ways that we’re separate from one another since the first time we kissed back at the end of September. The night he showed up outside of my door and held onto me like I was all that mattered…all that kept him from floating away.

  In the months since, he’s pushed me away as often as he’s pulled me close, and I understand enough to know it’s not about me, this yoyo game, it’s about him. Like so many people, Colt needs someone to love him—and I do. So much. But I can’t tell him. Mostly because he won’t let me. As much as he needs love, he doesn’t believe I can be the one to give it to him, or that I should be.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  He shrugs. “Didn’t feel like going to the party.” I wait, holding my breath and hoping, and he finally adds, “And I wanted to be somewhere alone with you. This was all I could think of.”

  Warmth fills me, and now I don’t hesitate to release my seatbelt and slide over the small space until I’m pressed against his side, my hand resting on his leg. “Are you okay?”

  He shakes his head, still staring at the door to his apartment. But he a
lso reaches down and covers my hand on his leg, his large fingers curling around mine and holding them tight. “Everything’s changing, Evie girl.”

  I nod, resting my head on his shoulder while I think of August and how much I dreaded senior year; how ready I was to already be graduated and gone from this place. And now…now I think of how fast these months with Colt have gone, how I wish to slow time down sometimes, because I know when the year is over, we will be, too.

  “I’ve been waiting for graduation as long as I can remember.” Colt shifts, angling his body so his back is resting slightly on his door, one arm around my shoulders, the other playing with my fingers while he listens to me. “I just never fit, you know? Wasn’t a pretty girl, or a nerdy girl, or the likeable girl. I was just tall Evie Wright who played volleyball. And then you knocked on my door at the beginning of the school year, and asked me to come outside where you held me on the porch, and everything changed.”

  Colt’s chest expands before he drops my fingers and wraps both arms around me. I shift so I’m leaning into him, both of my arms around his neck. “You changed me, too, Evie girl. I wish—” he exhales and pulls back, both of his hands framing my face. “I wish I could give you more… be more.”

  I shake my head, leaning forward to press my lips against his. “Colt—whatever happens—this year, these times we’re together… I won’t ever forget them.”

  His eyes are dark and heavy before he closes them and leans forward, his forehead resting against mine. “Promise me,” he whispers. “Promise me that’s true—no matter what happens, you’ll remember this, and all the nights before it where for once, we were enough. Just us, just being together—it was enough.”

  My heart speeds up, and for a second it’s difficult to breathe, but I nod, running my hands up and down his neck and shoulders. “I promise.”

  We stay pressed together, the rain starting up again to pound on the roof. When Colt leans even further, angling his head so our lips brush together, I sigh and lean into him.

  “Will you come inside with me?” he asks, lips still pressed to mine. I lean back and he opens his eyes. “I need to say goodbye. I’m not coming back here again.”

  “Of course.” He nods and turns to his door, gripping the handle and jumping out before turning to reach for my hand. I jump down after him, letting him pull me close as he slams the truck door and walks toward apartment four. I wrap my arm around his and hold him tight, wishing it didn’t feel like he’s saying goodbye to me, too.

  A harsh buzzing sound breaks through my sleep and interrupts my dream. I roll away from it, pausing when the empty feeling in my arms appears.

  Not a dream, my brain tells me at the exact moment my eyes fly open and confirm it.

  I spent the night wrapped up in Lincoln.

  In a hay barn.

  Fully clothed.

  Jesus, how the times have changed.

  For the better, I think, letting the smile come as I watch her sleeping form roll in search of mine. It’s not yet light out, which means it could be anytime between midnight (unlikely, as at midnight I was just pulling the blankets we’d pilfered from my room at the farm from Lincoln’s car and making a spread on the bales of straw she and I stacked together) and seven in the morning, because it’s November, and the sun doesn’t start showing until after that.

  I find my phone in my jacket pocket, pressing the HOME button and noting that it’s just past five, which means Beau’s already awake, and I should be getting back to the farm to help him with whatever chores he has for the weekend. Not yet, I think, still watching Lincoln. Not when I can sit here a little longer and replay all of the events of last night while looking at the girl I spent that time with.

  We left the game and went to the party for a half hour before both of us decided we weren’t in the mood to drink and celebrate. As usual these days, we were only in the mood to be with each other. But the rain kept the field from being an option, unless we wanted to sit inside Lincoln’s car all night. That’s when inspiration struck and we ended up back at the farm, and then at the family barn, in the unsold straw bales. At one point, neither of us had been wearing many clothes last night, and just the thought of that makes me wish it had been summer, and neither of us had felt the need to get dressed again before spooning together and falling asleep.

  The buzzing breaks the silence again, and since my phone is in my hand, the screen still dark, I look to the other side of Lincoln and see her screen lighting up.

  EVIE flashes across the front, and I frown. Leaning over and doing my best not to wake Lincoln, I grab her phone and swipe, whispering “Hello?”

  “Ford?” Her voice is a whisper, and even though this is the first time Evie and I have ever talked on the phone, a chill races down my spine.

  “Evie, what’s wrong?”

  “He left me, Ford.” Now her whisper turns strained, like her throat is closing and making it difficult to speak. “We came here together, and we must have fallen asleep at some point because I just woke up and I can’t find him. When I got my phone to call him, there was a text from him, from over two hours ago.”

  She’s sobbing now, and I can barely understand her. With every break in her voice, and every hiccup, my body strings tighter and tighter, my own throat closing and making it difficult to get air.

  A motion in my peripheral has me turning my head, and I watch as Lincoln sits up, the sleep clearing from her eyes while she stares at me, worry etched all over her face. And because I’m a coward, I want to hang up the phone and pretend it never rang. I want to start this moment over so that when Lincoln opens her beautiful blue eyes, the first thing she sees is me, and the first things she feels is everything I was feeling sixty seconds ago—bliss and wonder and so much goddamn happiness.

  But I can’t do any of that, because Evie is still crying on the other end of the line, and Lincoln is watching me like she already knows what I’m about to say.

  “Where are you, Evie?”

  “In...a-a-a-an apartment building,” she sniffles. “His. With his m-m-m-mom.”

  “We’re on our way.”

  “Don’t hang up,” she whispers, and my heart breaks. “Please, don’t hang up.”

  “I won’t. We won’t. Hang in there, Evie. I’m going to drive. Talk to Lincoln, Evie. Talk to her while we come to you. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Please hurry.”

  Lincoln is reaching for the phone, already saying Evie’s name.

  “Did you try calling his phone?”

  I grab the blankets and follow Lincoln to her car, taking the keys when I can see her hands shaking.

  “Give me your phone,” she says when we get in and start driving. I fish it out of my pocket, using my thumb to unlock if before I hand it to her. She opens my address book and clicks Colt’s name, her phone still pressed to her ear the entire time.

  “Voicemail,” she says. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see her press his name and listen again before she drops my phone, closing her eyes. “Still voicemail,” she whispers.

  I press the gas and fly down the gravel road. When we pass the main entrance to the farm, we both look, deflating when we don’t see Colt’s truck.

  Lincoln asks Evie a few questions in the seven minutes it takes us to get to her, but by the time we’re pulling in to the complex parking lot, she’s stopped speaking. There’s no sign of Colt’s truck here or on the street, either.

  “We’re here,” I say, taking the phone from Lincoln’s cold hand and speaking into it. “We’re in the parking lot. Where are you?”

  “Number four on the ground level. I’m coming.”

  In less than five seconds, I watch a door open, and then Lincoln and I are both pushing out of the car and rushing toward Evie. When Lincoln reaches her, Evie begins to sob in earnest again, her whole body shaking. For the first time, she doesn’t look tall and strong, she looks frail, her long frame nearly doubled over as she hugs Lincoln.
>
  “Why would he leave me like that? What did I do?”

  It takes Lincoln a second to answer, and I shake my head when I see her eyes go to the apartment door like she wants to go inside and look for herself. “You didn’t do anything, Evie. This isn’t your fault.”

  “Then, why?” Evie finally leans back, her pale face streaked with tears, dark circles already forming under her eyes. “Why did he leave me here, alone? Why did I wake up to this text?”

  Lincoln’s body goes still, and she looks at me even when she asks Evie, “What text?”

  “Forgive me.” Evie starts crying again, and she wipes at her face. “For what? Leaving me?”

  “Evie, did you guys come here a lot?” She shakes her head and Lincoln closes her eyes on a soft whimper. “Did he say why he wanted to be here last night?” She opens her eyes, and they’re as wet as Evie’s. “Did he give you a reason?”

  “He just said he wasn’t coming back again…that he needed to say goodbye.” Evie wraps her arms around her middle, her back slightly rounded. “There’s nothing in there, though. Just two rooms, his mom’s stuff. I asked if he wanted to pack it up and he said no. Then he picked me up and held me. We laid down on his bed, and…” She trails off and Lincoln’s holding her again, both girls crying, and my own chest feels so tight it’s ready to crack open.

  “Ford,” Lincoln says. “Ford, something’s not right.”

  I nod, reaching for both girls. “Evie, let’s take you home. I’m going to call Beau and Maggie—I have to,” I say before Lincoln can tell me not to. Lowering my voice, I look her straight in the eyes. “He wouldn’t do this to Evie, Lincoln. Not if he was okay.” Or in his right mind. But I don’t verbalize that. Lincoln’s expression tells me she’s already thought it, and it’s destroying her.