by Sally Henson
I don’t know what Lane sees in my eyes, but he looks at me for a long time. My heart swells, not with pain, but with the realization I have the beauty I craved earlier. Lane is that beauty, and I’m a little overwhelmed.
“Let me hold your hand for a while.”
He reaches for my left hand. “I'll tell you about dinner.”
I lace my fingers in his with an excited contentment—if that's possible. He lies back and I follow his lead. We are mirrored images, one hand behind our heads, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles.
39
Regan
Lane tells me about his awesome dinner, what the restaurant looked like inside, about the wraparound dinning porch and the pond with Koi fish among water grasses. He fills me in on his dinner conversation and I fill him in on mine. He shares my dad's questions about the cliff pictures when he came to the house tonight.
A twinge of pain grabs ahold of me. Dad doesn't believe me.
Puteulanu luna has reached its full height.
He asks, “I don't suppose our parents would let us stay out here all night?”
“Doubtful. Though, my dad obviously trusts you more than he does me. I still can't believe that he thought I was lying about the pictures.” Tears well up, but I'm able to sniff them back. I can't let Stacey ruin what has ended up being an amazing night. Two more years of gossip girl, and I'm gone.
We gaze at earth's satellite, and I replay the beautiful angel seeking me through moonlight tonight. My body still yearns to touch his lips, but holding his hand is keeping it somewhat satisfied. In the not-too-far distance along the creek, we hear the chant of a nocturnal bird. Lane turns to me and I stare back at his wide eyes. Both of us amazed at the sound, we remain quiet, excitedly listening to the song, “whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will.”
I speak as quiet as possible. “Whip-poor-will?” He smiles, nodding, eyes still excited as though he just discovered a new species. “I've never heard one back here before … this is so rare.”
We stay for a little while longer listening to the night, admiring creation. Then we make our way back through the path in occasional beams of moonlight that find portals through the canopy above. Our laced fingers keep us connected. It’s been a dreamy night in more ways than this filtered moonlight.
At the end of the path, Lane breaks the soothing silence.
“You're working tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, I need the money.” I hope I don't have to work with Stacey.
“Do you have something to drive?”
An offer to take me. My body sighs at his thoughtfulness. That's so sweet. “I think so. I'll call if that changes, thanks.”
“I'll see what the gang’s doing tomorrow night. Maybe we can meet at the diner or something.”
We near the door to my house. “Sounds good. Hey, um, I'm glad you came over. It didn't start out to be a very good evening. Thanks for changing that.”
His lips turn up. “Trust me, it was my pleasure.”
I chuckle and try to keep from smiling, but only succeed in keeping my lips together.
He places my hand between both of his, keeping his fingers entwined with mine. His lips softly press against my palm and then he releases my hand.
My arms and legs tingle. I may need to sit down before my legs give out.
He turns to walk toward his truck. After a few steps in that direction, he does a one-eighty to look at me. “Best friends?” he asks as he walks backward.
“No matter what.” I brace myself against the siding of the house.
He opens his door and waves before getting in his truck and bringing it to life. I watch his taillights move down the drive and turn right. My body sinks down to sit on the step.
Still smiling, I stay seated for a few minutes before going inside. I thought I’d be the one fighting Lane off after he admitted his feelings for me, but he was a total gentleman tonight and didn't take advantage of my moments of weakness.
Sometimes, he has this eerie ability to know what's going on in my mind. I want to stay best friends and leave the other feelings between us dormant. After all the electricity between us tonight, I'm not sure it's possible now. He's long gone and I still want to touch his face and feel his lips on mine.
I let out a dreamy whimper and roll my head back against the door. Between the love-hate relationship with this town, the best-friends more than friends relationship with Lane, and the possibility of either following my dreams or keeping my dad's support, my internal war is facing a potential three-front fight on the horizon.
The puteulanu luna totally messed with my head tonight, but deep down, I know it was me allowing my feelings to surface. Lane was as beautiful as anything I’ve ever seen tonight.
I snort and shake my head. I had to fight myself off. We've walked that path hundreds of times together growing up, even hand in hand, but for the first time it meant something more than friendship, and I admit, I kind of more than like it.
40
Regan
Tobi and I have a daily routine: volleyball in the mornings, then farm chores, after which we hang out with Lane and eat a late lunch, and then it’s back to volleyball. One deviation is the interdenominational youth group my youth minister, Tristan Shaw, and Miss Braun started last year. There's a short meeting tonight after open gym. We're supposed to bring a calendar or a list of events coming up in the school year.
Though I don't usually spend time with anyone other than our G5, last year was fun. I kept to myself with my comments, but the lessons were good and thought provoking. Miss Braun knows how to present things in a way I can relate to. Plus, Lane, Tobi, and Haylee were always there. Sometimes Cameron would show up, too.
Youth group meets in a loft apartment downtown, and we're late due to our little detour for some extra electrolytes at the store. We fly up the stairs, taking two at a time. Tobi trips half way up and slides down, ramming into me, nearly knocking me down the stairs.
“Tobi!” I yell at her. My mouth’s open, eyes bulging, waiting for her apology.
She just looks at me wide eyed and in shock. “I'm so—” She busts out laughing. “Sorry.” She continues in one of those “this isn't funny, but I can't stop” giggling laughs.
My mouth twists and brows draw in as I glare at her.
“You … should … see … your face.” She manages to get out between cackles and breaths.
Though I'm still disgusted, I can't help but laugh, too. It's contagious. I'm wiping tears from my face when Miss Braun opens the door to see what's going on.
Her mouth draws taught as she looks down the stairs at us. “You girls okay?”
We nod, trying to calm our hysterics, chalking it up to exhaustion.
Her forehead smooths out and she smiles. “Come in when you get it together.”
We sit for a minute, collecting ourselves. It's been a while since I laughed that hard, even if it was at myself.
Trudging up again, I push Tobi up the stairs to get her to pick up the pace, and she stumbles, setting off giggles again. At least we're able to control it this time.
Tobi opens the door, and we sneak in. Across the room, there are teenage bodies planted in donated furniture arranged in an ellipse. They've already started survival trivia without us, so we move quietly to an open, enormous chair that holds us both and we try our best not to interrupt. Let me rephrase that. Tobi plops down with a sigh. I, however, sit gingerly next to her, giving her a jab with my right elbow.
We take everything in—get the lay of the land, so to speak. Tristan, the youth leader, is asking the questions, going around the room in an orderly fashion. Fiddling with the label on my drink, I listen to the answers given, chuckling now and then, looking up on occasion at a jokester.
He asks the next person. “Is it safe to drink your own urine?”
They respond in disdain. “Uh, that's the question I get?”
My eyes shoot up from my bottle to the wall straight across from me as my br
eath catches in my throat.
No. Way.
My face grows solemn as all the joy is sucked out of the room by the voice uttering those six words. I feel a little sick to my stomach. Slowly, I turn my head to Tobi with a glare that could shoot daggers at my command. She stares back with her mouth gaping open. Her eyes are as big as saucers.
“Yep. It's the next question and you're the next person.” Tristan’s bright demeanor won’t hold a candle to this black whole. He has no idea what he's messing with.
“What kind of question is that? I mean, it's disgusting.” Stacey is such a whine-bag. Some of the girls are agreeing with her. It doesn't matter what comes out, that voice is as pleasant as a feedback from a speaker.
“What do you think? Is it safe for someone to drink their own urine?” Tristan tries to reign in the push back.
I hear a scoff, then a chortle that makes my ears bleed. My solemn frame of mind gives way to a flare of anger. I lean forward, peering to my right to put the face to the voice. Unbelievable. Youth group is one of the few places I thought I wouldn't have to deal with Stacey Faniger.
She narrows her eyes when she sees me. “Is it safe to drink your own urine, Regan?”
I can almost see the venom oozing over her lips and down her chin, burning holes into the wood floor as the smoldering smoke floats toward the ceiling. The stench that fills the room's atmosphere is a combination of burnt wood and hostility.
Doing my best to show no emotion—trying to retract the heat of anger and my scrunched-up nose—I say nothing, merely turn my head back straight, shooting my eyes forward and lean back against the chair. Tobi bumps me with her shoulder, scrutinizing me with questions plastered all over her face.
I return the look in echo, shaking my head just enough that only she can see.
Is there no safe place, no haven? She didn't come to this youth group one time last year. Stacey’s never set foot in my church, Tobi's church, Haylee's church, or any other church that I'm aware of, and now here she is at a calendar-syncing youth-group meeting. Is she trying to make my life as miserable as possible?
Something’s gotta give.
What if she’s trying to change?
I doubt it. She has some other motive for being here. She didn't seem to act any differently from usual.
Who am I to judge? I don't know her thoughts or motives. I'm not God. Maybe she does want to change her evil ways.
Just because you're a Christian doesn't mean you’re stupid.
41
Regan
Survival trivia ends with refreshments. The best place for me is between my friends and near Miss Braun right now. I search for light red hair woven in a long braid. There she is. Tobi drags Haylee over with us. We’re discussing volleyball practice and open gym with Miss Braun when she walks by.
Miss Braun catches Stacey's attention and motions her over. “I think you girls all know each other, don't you?”
Miss Braun knows we know each other. There's like, what, one-hundred fifty kids in the whole high school? I look down and roll my eyes, stifling the biggest sigh of annoyance in the world. The three of us reluctantly mumble some form of the word yes. Stacey just stands there with a fake smile batting her fake lashes.
I'm not going to hide from her. “Hey, Stacey. So, you're interested in being part of the youth group?” My speech is pleasant and sincere. I truly do want to know her intentions.
“I'm not sure. I thought I'd check it out.”
“Yeah? Who invited you?”
“Miss Braun suggested I come tonight.” She keeps a totally fake innocent smile and continues to bat her eyelashes at the four of us. If Miss Braun doesn't see right through that crap, she's not nearly as intelligent as I've been giving her credit for.
Tobi joins the inquisition. “Do you and your family attend a church in the area, Stacey? I don't think I've seen you at First Methodist before.”
Stacey juts her chin out and stands a little taller. “We're Catholic.” She sounds like she’s bored out of her mind as she takes the time to talk to us peasants. “We haven't found a church yet.” Wow, that's been what, ten years since she moved here?
“St. Mary's church is about two blocks from the diner,” Haylee offers up. “Oh, and there's one North of town in the country too. Over in Alto there's St.—”
Miss Braun cuts Haylee off. “We're very glad you came tonight, Stacey, aren't we girls?” Miss Braun reaches over to give Stacey's shoulder a squeeze. “It's time to continue our meeting.”
We move like molasses back to our seats. Miss Braun invited her? It’s kind of her job as a youth sponsor, right? But doesn't she know the lies, deceit, and destruction that fills Stacey? How it oozes out of every pore in her body? Does she not know what she did to Susanna? And how she continuously places me in her cross-hairs?
Miss Braun stands at the end of the ellipse, addressing the youth group. Her creamy light skin is stark against the black tobyMac T-shirt she's wearing. As she speaks, her eyes, this Fiji coastal blue-green, hold our attention.
Haylee, Tobi, and I decide to bolt as soon as we can and I shove the thought of Stacey infiltrating yet another part of my life deep in the crevices of my brain.
42
Lane
Regan rushes to her room to change. I hope she puts on that perfume she was wearing the day of my confession.
I stand and push my chair under the table. “Thanks for dinner tonight, Mrs. Stone. It was great.”
“Anytime, Lane.”
Regan returns, looking good in her jean capris or whatever she calls them. “Ready?”
It's the last night we get to spend with Tobi before she heads off to the State Fair for a week, and I’m sure Regan wants to get the night started. She has no idea what’s in-store for tonight.
I nod and step toward her Dad to shake his hand. “Good night, Mr. Stone. It was nice of you to invite me for dinner. Thanks again.”
Regan hooks my arm and tugs me to the door, calling to her parents, “See ya later.”
Mr. Stone warns, “Be home before midnight, young lady.”
I catch a glimpse of her giant eye-roll, and manage to keep from chuckling out loud. I get it. She’s never not home before midnight. She just looked so cute doing it.
I open the door. Regan crosses the threshold and hollers, “I will.”
Her mom calls out the door at us. “You kids be careful.”
As soon as the door shuts, Regan bolts for my truck.
I take a nice, leisurely stroll.
Regan yanks on the passenger side door handle and growls, “Hurry up. We don’t have all night.”
“What's the rush?”
“It's almost seven-thirty. We only have four hours before I have to be back home.”
I climb in and crank the engine. “It's still daylight. We have plenty of time,” I assure her. I’m being a little cryptic, dropping subtle hints there’s a plan she’s not aware of.
Regan turns in her seat and begins to wave her hands around animatedly. “We have four hours. Four hours fly by when you're having fun.”
We roll down the drive and head to Tobi’s. I smirk, trying to squash this “I know something you don’t know” smile before it takes over. Best thing to do is focus straight ahead on the road. “The fun won't begin until sundown.”
Since she’s accepted we’re more than friends, I can’t seem to control my flirting with her. Especially when we’re by ourselves. Even though my feelings aren’t new, it feels new. And exciting.
She tilts her head, and narrows those intimidating eyes of hers. “What fun? What’re you talking about?”
I glance at her, and sing playfully, “You'll see.”
She prods me for several minutes, but I give no response. I’m really enjoying her attention.
Until she goes all seductress on me.
She unbuckles her seatbelt and leans my way. “Tell me,” she hums in a tone I’ve never heard her use before.
It causes my body to stiffen
, though it’s taking everything I’ve got not to show how she affects me.
Keep your eyes on the road, Cary.
Regan slides over, resting her arm along the back of the seat behind my shoulders, inching even closer. I’ve tried so hard to keep myself in check—to let her take the reins on the kissing. She’s got to be the one to do it, but what she’s doing now has me on the edge.
My breath catches in my throat as I turn toward her. I’d been forcing my eyes on the road and didn’t realize how close her lips were to my face. “You better get back on your side of the truck and put your seatbelt on, if you know what's good for you.”
She giggles, and it takes me down a deep rollercoaster plunge.
I’m so not playing it cool right now.
She places her lips so close to my ear I can feel her breath, and I grip the steering wheel so tight it’d take a pry bar to peel my fingers off.
And then she does the unthinkable.
Regan rests her free hand on my thigh. Her voice drops into a Keely Smith kind of smooth. “Lane Oliver Cary, what are you keeping from me?”
She pushed one too many buttons, and I stomp on the brakes.
Regan braces herself with her hand on the dash. “Are you trying to kill me?” She shrieks.
I slam the truck in park and fling off my seatbelt. My heart revs against my ribs. Before she knows what's happening, I have my arms around her, our lips only a breath apart. I try to take a slow deep breath. And I almost laugh out loud because she’s doing the same. Well, as deep and slow as she can, considering I can feel her chest heaving underneath me.
Her perfume swirls around me like an enticing aroma, fogging my judgment even more. I graze my cheek against hers, closer to that heavenly scent. I think her lips brush against my neck—it’s probably my imagination. But her skin is drawing my lips to it like a magnet.