I Never

by Laura Hopper

  Luke catches sight of me and stops in his tracks. This time I don’t look away. We stare at each other. I am determined to not be the first to break the trance. Maybe he is just as determined as I am, because an uncomfortably long time passes while we stare at each other from opposite corners. Finally, he turns away to place his order.

  I am completely out of my element here. Brett’s words are sticking to my insides, making me queasy. The picture he painted of Luke is engraved in my brain. Luke is sitting at a table ten feet away, and I’m totally unclear as to our status. Who is supposed to initiate the effort to make things better? I miss my old life—​so simple, so free of drama and strategy. I grab my stuff and leave, my head down, trying to move past the senior boys quickly and without being noticed.

  I’m walking home feeling more alone than I have felt in a very long time. My whole life is upside down, and I want to cry. I miss Luke but I’m mad at him. I miss my parents living at home together and I’m really mad at them for splitting up.

  I’m about two blocks from home when, in my peripheral vision, I see a black Jeep pull up next to me. I don’t even have to turn my head to know that it’s Luke. I feel both relief and anxiety wash over me like a wave.

  “Get in,” he says, and I practically jump into his car.

  We drive in silence for a minute or two.

  “You want to tell me what’s up?” he asks. That perpetual Luke Hallstrom grin is conspicuously absent, and his serious demeanor is unfamiliar to me.

  I have no idea what to say. I haven’t planned for this conversation and I need to buy a little time to contemplate my response. “I don’t know,” I say.

  “You don’t know?” he asks, incredulous. “Well, if you don’t know, who does? I certainly don’t. What happened at that track meet, Janey?”

  “I don’t know,” I repeat, feeling and sounding like a fool.

  “Well, something must have happened,” he says. “I got on the bus and you didn’t even look at me. I’ve been waiting to hear from you. It’s like you flipped a switch. I think I deserve an explanation.”

  I have no choice but to be honest. “I saw you shamelessly flirting with that girl,” I say, and I am well aware of how juvenile I sound.

  “What girl?” Luke asks with genuine confusion. I see him wracking his brain in an effort to replay the events of yesterday afternoon. It’s incredible that what looked to me like a significant and very memorable conversation where real sexual attraction was brewing seems to have meant absolutely nothing to him.

  “The blonde from Escondido.”

  “Oh. Her? She’s a friend of Amanda’s. Really? You iced me because you saw me talking to her? That’s a little crazy, isn’t it?”

  “She seemed so into you. And you looked very happy about it. I felt jealous and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I panicked.”

  Luke takes a big breath. “I’m sorry you felt bad, but you can’t just go silent without telling me what’s going on.”

  “I realize that,” I say.

  “You’re my girlfriend. I told you I love you.” He says it as though carrying that around is supposed to make me impervious to worry and skepticism.

  “I know,” I say.

  “But . . .” he trails off.

  “But what?” I need to know what is on the other side of that sentence. Fear rises from my stomach straight through to my heart.

  “But the jealous-girlfriend thing doesn’t really work for me,” he says. My first instinct is to just apologize and beg for forgiveness, but I know I would hate myself later.

  “I’m sorry I have feelings that don’t work for you,” I say, and I hear the edge creeping into my voice, “but they are real and I’m sharing them with you.”

  “Well, I don’t really know what to do with that,” he says. He looks at me and I can’t tell what he’s feeling. I search for the warmth I always see sparkling in his eyes. He seems different, like he’s really confused and unsure where to go from here. He pulls up in front of my house and turns off the engine. He turns to me, his face grim.

  “Would you rather I didn’t tell you how I was feeling?” I ask.

  “I’m just surprised you’re so insecure.” His words cut to my core, making me feel more insecure than ever. I will myself to stay strong and not crumble under his intense scrutiny.

  “Again, I can’t help the way I feel, and I thought I could talk to you about it,” I say, hoping I sound much braver than I feel.

  “Well, that’s the thing, Janey. You didn’t talk to me about it. You just assumed the worst. I had to pick you up on the side of the road to find out what was going on. I deserve better than that.” He’s right.

  “You’re right,” I say.

  “It doesn’t seem like you trust me,” he says.

  “I do,” I say.

  “Doesn’t seem like it,” he says, looking right at me, his eyes sad. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me.” There’s a finality in his voice that scares the hell out of me.

  I am stunned into silence. We sit there in the quiet for what feels like hours, but it is probably less than a minute.

  “I want my girlfriend to trust me. Do you know what you want?” he asks.

  I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to feel the way I feel now. I don’t want self-doubt to make me jealous and dramatic. Before I have a chance to answer, Luke speaks up.

  “Maybe you need some space. A little time to think about what you want,” he says gravely.

  Those are the scariest words I’ve heard since my parents told me they were separating. There’s nothing to think about. I want Luke. I love him. Loving him as much as I do is why I felt insecure. Isn’t that obvious? If I didn’t care so much about him, I wouldn’t mind if he flirted with every girl in San Diego County.

  But I don’t say those things. Instead I just say “Okay.” I reach for the door handle, hoping he’ll make me stay in his car until we turn this around and get back to the fun and the kissing. I want to see his face break into that smile that turns me to butter. But there’s no smile, no sign of his adorable tongue. What do I do? What do I say? Is this over?

  I take hold of my backpack, swing the door open, and get out of the Jeep. I stand there on the curb, looking at him.

  “Bye, Janey,” he says.

  “Bye,” I say, closing the door and walking slowly into my house.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I walk into my house, drop my stuff on the floor, and start to cry. Even though I’m sad about my parents splitting up and I miss my dad and I’m stressed about all the changes in my life, these tears are for Luke. I don’t want to lose him.

  I handled this situation badly. I behaved like a jealous little girl. But is he blameless? What about the fact that he’s a giant flirt? Am I just supposed to be okay watching girls fall all over him?

  Within the hour, Sloan and Danielle are at my house for some much-needed counseling. They came as soon as I texted, but not before stopping at 7-Eleven to grab bags of Hot Tamales and Pretzel M&M’s. We sit on my bed discussing every word that was exchanged between Luke and me. We analyze his dating past, his so-called friendships with every girl we know, and his penchant for flirting. We stalk his social media. There is no shortage of photos of him with a wide variety of girls.

  “Maybe Brett is right about Luke,” I say.

  “Brett is a cynical virgin,” Sloan says. We look at Sloan and smile at her word choice. “I, on the other hand, am a wise, experienced virgin,” she adds. “Two very different things.”

  “Luke’s not a player; he’s just a flirt,” Danielle adds.

  “Remind me of the difference,” I say.

  Sloan says, “A player hooks up a lot and never has a girlfriend. A flirt makes girls feel like he wants to hook up with them, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t really do anything.”

  “So you’re saying he wants everyone to like him,” I say.

  “Basically,” Sloan admits while she sifts through the M&
M’s, pulling out all the blue ones.

  “Is that true?” I ask. “Does Luke want everyone to like him?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Danielle asks, playing devil’s advocate.

  “You know what I mean,” I say. “Does he thrive on knowing that every girl wants him?”

  “That’s probably accurate,” Danielle says.

  “You know,” I say, “he is still close with Amanda and Julia. Most people have nothing to do with their exes.”

  “Yeah,” says Sloan, “he probably hopes they’re still in love with him.”

  “And they probably are,” I say.

  “Of course they are—​he’s Luke Hallstrom,” Sloan says, popping a Hot Tamale into her mouth.

  “Well, I think we’ve determined one thing here,” Danielle says.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Perfect Luke Hallstrom actually has a flaw. He’s a people-pleaser who feels the need to ensure every girl he meets falls madly in love with him and stays that way.”

  “Ugh! What am I supposed to do?”

  Danielle says, “You have to decide if that’s the person you want to be with.”

  “Remember,” Sloan warns, “he’s not going to change.”

  “Who are we kidding? It might not be up to me to decide. He thinks I’m young and insecure and that I don’t trust him,” I say. “This might already be over.”

  “If you want him, you’ll have to convince him otherwise,” Danielle says.

  I get up from the bed and go over to my closet and take out the bracelet Luke got me for Valentine’s Day. I took it off for the track meet and didn’t put it back on because I have been feeling so unsure about where Luke and I stand. The card is folded into a tiny square and jammed into the narrow black box. I read the card for the hundredth time. Love, Luke. I wrap the bracelet around my wrist and fasten the tiny clasp.

  “I want him,” I say.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  At 9:30 that night, I find myself parked in my mom’s car in front of Luke’s house. During dinner at home, my mom must have asked me ten times if everything was okay, and I came up with an equal number of excuses for why I was so distracted and quiet. The last thing I needed was my mother to confirm Luke’s theory that I’m not ready for a relationship.

  After Danielle and Sloan left, I tried desperately to do my homework, with zero success. The only thing on my mind was Luke. I love him. I’m not ready to let him walk away because he’s popular and is always going to have girls surrounding him. He’s a flirt, and that’s not going to change. I have to deal with the fact that there’s something about Luke that I don’t like. I’ve got to gain the strength to accept him as he is. The realization that I don’t think he’s absolutely perfect is actually somewhat liberating. He’s human. It kind of makes him even easier to love. The big question is, does he still think I’m lovable? Am I on the list of people whose affection he wants to maintain?

  I can’t seem to get out of the car. It’s cold outside, and even though I have the engine running and the heat blasting, I’m still shivering. Raindrops start falling on the windshield. I did not bring a raincoat or an umbrella. I could use the rain as an excuse to blow off this ill-advised plan and just drive home. I look out the windshield and up at his house. His Jeep is parked in the driveway, and lights glow through the upstairs windows.

  I have to psych myself up to walk to the front door and ring the bell. The rain is quickening, beating on the roof of the car. I remind myself about the final piece of advice Danielle offered: Do not leave there until you’ve said what you need to say. Danielle and Sloan prepped me with words and phrases to use, but I can’t seem to recall a single one of them. I’m going to have to wing it.

  I turn off the engine, which makes the pounding of the rain seem even louder. I dash from the car to the covered porch, but not before my hair and clothes get supremely soaked. Before I totally chicken out, I ring the bell. After an almost insufferable moment, I hear footsteps. Mrs. Hallstrom opens the door.

  “Hi, Mrs. Hallstrom,” I say, as if my standing in front of her house in the pouring rain is a regular occurrence.

  “Hi, Janey. You’re dripping. Come in.” I step inside the house, careful to not stand on her Persian foyer rug in my wet Converse. “Is Luke expecting you?”

  Just as I’m about to answer, I look up to find Luke standing at the top of the stairs.

  “Hi,” he says as he descends toward me. His mom makes a prompt exit to the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” he asks. Now, there’s a loaded question. I’m here to beg you to take me back? I came to tell you that I might be insecure, but you’ve got issues too? Where are all those carefully rehearsed words I practiced with Sloan and Danielle?

  “I want to talk,” I said.

  “Come on up,” he says.

  I leave my soggy sneakers in a corner by the front door and follow Luke up the stairs. We walk down a long hallway and enter his bedroom. He closes the door. His room looks like the work of a decorator. It is done in navy and gray, with roman shades that coordinate with an upholstered headboard and duvet cover. The mahogany bookshelves match the wood of the crown molding. Despite the professional touches, the room is all Luke. His trophies are everywhere, from the shelves to his desk and even on the floor. There are two U2 posters on the wall alongside a framed Boston Red Sox signed jersey. Luke moves his computer, iPad, and school binders off of his bed to free up some space for me.

  “Have a seat,” he says. His tone is significantly friendlier than it was in the car, but there is still a palpable distance between us.

  “Thanks,” I say, trying to figure out how to sit on a boy’s bed. He leans against the headboard, and I sit near the foot of the bed on a navy blue throw blanket.

  “What did you want to talk about?” He seems genuinely interested.

  “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the conversation we had in your car,” I say, fidgeting with the fringe on the blanket.

  “And?” he says, lifting his eyebrows in curiosity.

  “And I know that I overreacted. I was jealous. I never felt that way before, and I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay,” he says. “That’s fair, I guess.”

  “I’ve been one hundred percent honest with you about that fact that this is all new for me. Sometimes you’re going to see signs of my inexperience.”

  “Janey, it’s fine to be inexperienced. It’s not fine to assume the worst. Especially when I’ve done nothing to show I can’t be trusted.”

  “You’re right. You deserve the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Why is there even a doubt?” he asks now, a slight smile creeping onto his lips. Do I dare say it?

  “Well . . .” I say, hesitant to call him out.

  “Well what?” The mood in the room is lightening, his smile threatening to make an appearance.

  “You’re a big flirt,” I say. He takes a moment to digest this. He seems surprised, which is sort of shocking to me. Is this really breaking news?

  “I am not,” he argues, a hint of teasing in his voice.

  “Oh yes you are. Admit it,” I say, trying to echo his tone.

  “I’m with you. I love you. But I also happen to be a nice guy, so I’m going to be friendly to people. You’re still the one I want.”

  “I know.”

  “You know what?”

  “That you’re a nice guy.”

  “What about the other parts?” he asks.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, looking down at the blue blanket fringe tangled up in my fingers.

  “Do you also know that I love you and that you’re the one I want?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Say it,” he says.

  “You love me and I’m the one you want.”

  “You know, when I see you at track, or with your friends, it’s obvious that you know exactly who you are. There’s nothing fake about you. I love that you’re so confident.”

  I can’
t believe that he thinks I’m confident, when I usually feel exactly the opposite. If he only knew that he is the one who makes me feel beautiful in a way I never allowed myself to feel. Because of Luke, I can stand naked in front of a mirror and appreciate my body. Shockingly, I can stand naked in front of him and accept his appreciation of my body. I never would have thought that possible. It’s all because of Luke.

  “Well, I guess we’ve debunked that theory, haven’t we?” I say.

  “No. You had a moment of weakness. But you’ve gotta talk to me when you’re pissed. Don’t freeze me out.”

  “Got it.”

  “Come here,” he says as he leans toward me. I drop the blanket and crawl up toward him. We kiss hungrily. We go from zero to sixty in about half a second, and the kissing is suddenly crazy hot. It’s as though all the feelings I’ve had in the last twenty-four hours—​jealousy, fear, insecurity, anger, relief, and happiness—​are in a blender, being whipped up into a frenzy and working themselves out of me via the most intense make-out session ever. He pulls me onto his lap and I straddle him. He leans back against his pile of blue and gray pillows and I lean forward against him.

  His hands reach down my pants and grab my ass. Feeling his strong hands on my butt makes me even hotter for him. I hear myself moan and quickly realize we are in his house and his mom is downstairs.

  “What about your parents?” I ask.

  “Don’t worry about them,” he answers, unwilling to let his mouth separate from mine.

  I push myself down on him so my legs press tighter around his, and his crotch pushes up against mine. We find a rhythm—​kissing, pressing, pushing, moaning, grabbing. Just as I think I’m going to explode, the home phone rings and we hear his dad’s voice from down the hall. The trance is broken. We come apart and look at each other. We’re both flushed and a little sweaty. I stare at him and I know. I know at some point in the very near future I’m going to lose my virginity to Luke Hallstrom.