by Ginger Scott
After about a minute, I feel like I might get away with it, so I glance at my bum of a best friend. He’s still staring at me, and I’m mad at myself for not waiting him out longer. But he doesn’t make a joke. And he actually looks like he feels genuinely bad.
“So, is that her?” Eli asks, pointing behind me, while taking a sip of his beer.
I turn around and Paige is steps away, her hand playing with the stem of a cherry floating near the top of her Coke. She’s smiling, and my heart starts to beat a little faster with hope until she talks.
“You honestly think I’m going to let you buy me a drink the day after your date with hottie McScrub Pants?” she says. I’m not sure what to laugh at most at first—the name she just gave the poor girl Casey set me up with, or the fact that she’s so jealous.
“For the record, I bought the drinks,” Casey says, holding his glass up to toast her. She squints at him, then moves her eyes back to me.
“Why is your friend dressed like a pimp?” she asks. She pulls the cherry out of her Coke and eats it while she waits, and I get a little lost watching her tongue play with the stem.
“I don’t know,” I chuckle, just happy she’s decided to keep her drink, she’s not throwing it at me, and she’s still standing here. I take a deep breath, and she takes a long sip through her straw, both of us locked in this small little window of fresh air and happiness. I don’t hesitate to step through the opening.
“Casey bought your drinks, because he’s the one who was supposed to be on the date with…” I stop, shaking my head at her.
“Hottie McScrub Pants,” she fills in for me, still not convinced or ready to let me off the hook easily.
“Right. Or we could call her Tracey,” I say.
“You can call her Tracey,” she fires back. Okay, I still have work to do.
I smile at her with my lips tight, letting her have that one. She can have more, too. Whatever she wants. Just don’t leave, Paige.
“Okay,” I nod. “Point is, I didn’t have a date,” I start, and she interrupts again.
“Ah, not sure about that. I saw you. On one. A date, that is,” she says. I sigh with frustration, but when I look at her, I notice the right side of her mouth tick up, her smirk playful in her eyes, too. She’s messing with me.
“Fine, we’ll call it a date,” I say, and when I feel her try to cut me off again, I hold my hand up to stop her. “But not a date I made or knew about until minutes before I showed up to cancel. It was a date my very annoying friend…”
“Best friend,” Casey butts in. I smack his head just like Meg did, sending him back to the land of headaches so I can finish talking to Paige.
“My best friend decided it was time for me to get back in the game, not realizing there was only one place I wanted to be, one girl I wanted to go on a date with, one person who I would even consider.” I say these words to her, not caring if Casey and Eli are hearing them, and Paige works so hard to keep herself from giving anything away. But I know her tells. I see her breathing change. I notice her eyes react, and her lips tremble for just a second.
She takes another long sip through her straw, her lips slipping even more into a grin. I let mine go too.
“We’re going to Nate’s game later today. Scouts are going to be there; it’s suppose to be a big deal,” she says, her teeth chewing at the tip of her straw as her eyes flit to mine. “You should come.”
“I’ll be there,” I say. I have to work, but I’ll quit before I miss this game, this moment, this chance.
The smile on her face does me in.
Before she leaves, she glances to Eli, furrowing her brow. “Who’s this guy?” she says, pointing to him.
Eli shakes his head. “I’m Eli. We met. I moved, like, a shitload of furniture from one room to another for you,” he says.
“Oh, yeah. You had a beard, right?” she asks.
“I shaved,” he says, sitting up, almost proud that his beard has been the focus for two conversations today.
“Yeah. You should grow it back,” Paige says, completely deflating his ego. He slumps back down on his stool. “See ya at the game, Houston,” she says, turning away and never glancing back at me, even as she catches up with her friends and leaves the restaurant.
Her hips sway, though, and I know that she’s found her swagger. I’d take that any day over her making this—any of this—easy.
“Wow, man. Your girl-crush is a bitch,” Eli says, taking another drink of his beer, looking at me over the rim. I think he’s expecting me to hit him, which I might if he were Casey. Instead, I laugh, because yeah, she’s an acquired taste. But she’s also a flavor I’d gladly get drunk on.
“That’s girl love, dude,” I say. “Girl…love.”
Paige
When he finally pulls up, I breathe and relax my clenching hands, suddenly aware of exactly how scared I was he wouldn’t show. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted him here until I got to the stadium and didn’t see him waiting. I sent Cass in without me, telling her Houston was running late. I pretended to know, but really I had no idea if he was coming or not. It was all just hope.
Hope and fairytales.
He’s dressed nice, and I almost lean into him when he steps up the curb alongside me, but stop myself before crossing the line. Giving in would be so easy.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says.
“It’s okay. I got your ticket,” I say, handing it to him, our hands barely touching. I still feel it. I feel it every time.
We make our way into the stands, finding my sister and Ty near the front on the first-base side, Rowe leaning over the wall, talking to Nate.
“So, scouts are here today, huh?” Houston asks. I smile and nod. Apparently, there are some big scouts here, and it’s all really exciting, and I’m thrilled for Nate. But all I can think about—all I care about—is figuring out how to navigate these feelings I have crushing my chest and how to get his hand, which is swinging so close to mine, to give in, to reach over and touch me, to hold on and to shake away my fears.
Personally, I think Nate has it easy with the scouts.
“Hey, you made it,” Cass says, walking up and hugging me. I know she really means Houston made it. I can also tell that we’re what she and Ty are talking about when she moves back to sit next to him. Cass isn’t very good at subtle, and she looks directly at us at least a dozen times while whispering. When Ty does the full lift and turn in his chair to look at us, it’s confirmed.
“Hey man, you want to save me from all this girl-talk over here? They’re determined to ruin baseball,” Ty calls to Houston.
“He’s just being a big baby,” Cass adds.
My phone in my lap, I keep my eyes on my email messages, pretending not to be listening, hoping Houston stays right where he is. I see him shake his head no, and I suck in my bottom lip to camouflage the enormous grin that wants to take up all real estate on my face.
“Whatcha reading?” he asks, leaning into me. God, his body feels warm.
“Email,” I say.
“You get email?” he asks.
“Uh…yeah. I employ several means of technology,” I say, scrolling through old messages about the student government application I filed last week.
“Sorry, I just thought you were all text and emoticons and junk,” he laughs.
“I was,” I say, dropping my phone back in my purse, using the movement as an excuse to run my leg against his, my heart thrilled with every single accidental-on-purpose touch. “Campaign business.”
I have to contain my smile again, and this time because I love the way Houston’s looking at me after what I just said. The right side of his lip raised, his cheek slightly dimpled. Damn…I just made him proud.
“You did it,” he says, half question, half statement.
“I did it,” I say. “I filed to become university council secretary. The election is next month. I even made posters.”
“Oh, I’m gonna need one of those,” he jokes. “Pa
ige Owens, on a poster, with the word secretary. That’s…”
“You better not say that’s funny, you asshole,” I rib.
“Funny wasn’t quite the word I was thinking,” he says, eyebrows raised.
“Oh,” I blush.
“I mean…fuck, man. Secretary. That’s like…a seriously hot image,” he continues.
“You know, it’s not that kind of secretary,” I say.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “’Cause now that’s the kind that’s in my head.”
His eyes aren’t really on me any more; instead, they’re grazing down the length of my leg, and it’s making me want to accidentally-on-purpose touch him again.
“How’s Leah?” I ask, our conversation now feeling familiar and comfortable. I’ve been dying to ask about her, about everything that’s happening, but I didn’t want it to be the only thing between us. I wanted today to be more than therapy.
“She’s good. Surprisingly,” he says, biting his lip, his teeth sawing back-and-forth on it while he thinks. “Or maybe not surprisingly. I don’t know; that girl is a lot stronger than I think. I know she doesn’t totally understand what’s happening, but she gets some of it. She uh…she punched a boy recently.”
“Well that’s always good,” I say.
Houston smiles.
“I thought you’d think so,” he says. “He called her babe.”
“Sexist,” I accuse.
“I think the kid just thought she was pretty,” he shrugs.
“Then call her pretty. Don’t call her babe,” I say, sitting up a little taller.
He watches me carefully, his lips in a tight smirk.
“What if I call you babe?” he asks after a few seconds.
“I’d punch you,” I say.
Houston chuckles to himself, letting his gaze draw forward to the field, watching the players come out to begin throwing. When he doesn’t notice, I punch him in the arm.
“Owwww, what the…” he says, rubbing the sore spot.
“Technically, you did call me babe…just then,” I glower. I can only hold my tough-girl act up for a few seconds though, because he mocks me, and it makes me laugh. Our laughter fades after a minute, and eventually we’re just looking at each other.
“I miss her,” I admit.
“She punched a boy,” he says. “I think it’s fair to say she misses you too.”
Our stares only grow deeper, but never uncomfortable. It’s like I’m reacquainting myself with every nuance of his face, remembering things so I can revisit them later, so I can use those visions to find the strength to let myself fall.
Our small moment together is quickly interrupted by a familiar voice—a student reporter who has been calling me repeatedly for information on Chandra’s photos. Apparently, he interns at the Herald and saw something in someone’s notes. I’m pretty sure he’s breaking some major ethics rules by pursuing me, but I don’t have anything to lose over those photos now, so I haven’t wanted to make a big deal of it with the paper. I’m just not sure talking with him would be a great move for my student-government campaign. So I’ve been dodging his calls and deleting emails instead. I can keep this up for a while.
When I glance over my shoulder, I notice he’s talking with my sister. Houston is talking with Nate, who’s stopped over by the first-base wall. I pull my phone back into my lap and lean to my right, wanting to hear what the reporter is asking Cass. When I hear him bring up Chandra, Cass dismisses it quickly, as if the entire thing—and Chandra—are no big deal. It makes me smile.
“Crazy how that whole Chandra thing blew up, huh? The way those pictures found their way online?” Ty says to me over a few rows of seats to the section I’m in. I glance up at him ready to bluff, but I can tell right away in his eyes that he knows, and that he’s proud of me.
“Yeah…” I say, standing and straightening my shorts and blouse, pulling my purse onto my arm. “Definitely…crazy.” I lean forward and whisper to Houston that I’m getting a drink, then turn to take the steps slowly, not wanting to draw the attention of my reporter friend, or to look like I’m running. I’m not. I’m done running. But I’m also done making a scene.
I give Ty one more look over my shoulder, and he’s still watching me, just as I expected, so I give in, and nod—just a little. He winks in return.
He and I…we’re better when we’re on the same side.
Houston
All I wanted was a do-over, a window, just one damn opening so I could figure out what the hell went wrong. But now that I’ve got my do-over, I sort of wish I could just pick up where we left off instead, because now I don’t know what’s next. Part of me wants to scoop her up into my lap and kiss her right here in front of everyone. Then, there’s part of me that thinks she’ll smack me in the face if I do.
“You look nervous,” Rowe says, sliding into Paige’s seat while she’s gone. I smile at her, rubbing my neck while I turn to look to see where Paige is. When I don’t see her anywhere, I turn back to Rowe with a heavy sigh.
“I might be. I mean, I am. Can you tell? Is it bad?” I wince. I swear to god I was more confident in my game when I was a teenager. Fatherhood has done a number on me.
Rowe laughs lightly as she twists to the side in her seat, pulling one knee in while she faces me.
“She’s nervous too,” she says. For some reason, this helps. This helps a shit-ton.
“Has she…mentioned…” I’m careful with my words to her. Paige has always been very private about us, and I don’t want to mess things up by telling someone too much.
Rowe lets out another breathy laugh, nodding yes while she looks down in her lap. “I think we all sort of know you two have, had, are, was, were, are working on a thing,” she says.
“That’s one way to put it,” I chuckle, relaxing lower into my seat. I wish I wore a hat today. If I did, I’d pull it down so I could hide.
“Paige and I talked…a little,” she says. This has my attention, and I sit up again, leaning forward with my arms on my knees, wringing my hands, and cracking my knuckles. “She only left because of Leah’s trust, you know. Or…you should know.”
Trust? My brow bunches, and I’m sure I’m staring blankly at her trying to decipher why in the hell Paige would think she had anything to do with Leah’s trust, when understanding washes over me. “Ahhhhhhh,” I breathe, shutting my eyes. “She thought that Chandra would use her against us.”
“She did,” Rowe says. “I guess she ran into her at that party, and…”
“And that’s when she came home to me, and said she had to leave,” I finish. Rowe notices something over my shoulder, and I can tell by the face she’s making that Paige is on her way back.
“Thank you,” I mouth.
“No problem,” she says, laughing as if I just said something funny. She leans forward as she stands and whispers, “I fix break-ups; it’s my thing. Now turn around and smile.”
I do as Rowe says, and am greeted by Paige stepping into the seat on the other side of me.
“I don’t think I like you two getting all chummy,” she says, handing me a giant pretzel wrapped in paper. “You looked hungry.”
I shake my head while I take my twisted bread from her, picking a piece off and stuffing it into my mouth. “I wasn’t,” I say, while chewing. “But I’ll eat it anyway.”
“Well, I needed something to buy, so you’re welcome,” she says. All I can do is laugh because she’s so cute, even when she’s flippant and thoughtlessly thoughtful. I love her, and I don’t care if she hits me. I’m telling her. Right. Fucking. Now.
My deep breath is loud, and she notices, her body growing a little rigid as if she can sense I have a speech coming. I wish she would just tell me what I was about to say, because right now, I haven’t got a clue. But I’m going to say some words, and they’re going to be honest, because that has always worked for me. Why change things up now.
“I have to go to work, and Paige, I’ve gotta leave in like five minutes
, so please, just let me say this without interrupting,” I start, and she’s already blowing my request.
“You have to work?” She’s seriously repeating me, and it’s frustrating and funny all at the same time.
“Yeah, I have to work. So quit interrupting, so I can…”
“Then why’d you come?” she asks, and now she sounds sad, and all I want to do is let her interrupt like crazy for the next ten minutes before I have to leave. And then not leave. Then quit my job because making her happy is way better than my paycheck.
“I came to see you,” I say, shoulders up, nothing else to give. “I was supposed to spend the day painting Leah’s room, and I was supposed to fix some things around the house for my mom, but instead I had to hunt down my friend and make him fix the mess he made between us. Then…I ran into you, and you said to come to the game, so I came. I’ll always come. I’ll always pick you, Paige. Always…you.”
For once in the last five minutes she seems speechless, her sadness starting to look a little bit more like hope. This…is my opening.
“I’m just going to put it out there, Paige,” I say, holding my hand up, not even letting her say another word. “I’ve learned that life twists and turns on you, that unexpected shit falls in your lap, and sometimes it’s a blessing and other times it’s your worst nightmare. Through all of that, I’ve learned that wasting time missing out on the things that really matter is just that—a waste of time.”
I take a deep breath before this next part, because last time, it didn’t go so well. “I love you, Paige,” I say, waiting for a blip, gauging her reaction, bracing myself. Her smile is still in place, cautious as it might feel—so I continue. “I’m not expecting you to move back in, or marry me, or become some super stepmom. I just want you to love me back, however you can, and let me hold your hand and talk to you at night. All I want is to kiss you and untangle your purse when that strappy thing gets stuck in your hair.”
Her lips twist into a bigger smile, and she giggles when I tug on the purse strap that first got tangled in the trash can the night she tutored me. I love that purse strap, and I owe it a fucking hell of a lot.