Difficult. Damaged. Closed-off. If I were making a list of qualities to avoid in a girl, Aimee would probably match up with every single one of them. But I’m still here, working my ass off for every single smile. And I want to be here. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my whole life.
She tells me everything and nothing all at once and I take what I can get because somewhere along the way that became okay. Look but don’t touch. That’s the deal with us and it doesn’t matter if I want more because I’m not going to touch her until she makes it clear that it’s what she wants. And that’s not a game. It’s a promise. No more strategy. No more pushing. No more bullshit.
Just her and me. Me and her.
Her. One word. A simple pronoun that seems like an entire vocabulary.
Aimee
“So, I’ve been thinking about tattoos.”
I look up from my laptop as Jodi falls into the chair on the opposite side of the study carrel. A huge grin has swallowed up her face.
“I’m almost afraid to ask but… what, exactly, are you thinking about tattoos?”
Impossibly, her smile gets wider. “Do you remember that girl Alexis?” Jodi asks. “I think you met her last week. Big boobs,” she mimes this with her hands, “and short blonde hair.”
I try to think back. For someone who doesn’t seem to have many friends, Jodi certainly knows a lot of people. Last Tuesday I think she introduced me to two Kevins and at least four girls that she told me with a sideways glance, were total skanks.
“I—um…” I’m pulling a blank.
“It doesn’t matter. She’s a total skank.” Jodi says and one side of my mouth turns up in response. “What matters,” she goes on, “is that last night I was grabbing a Frappuccino and I ran into Alexis and the guy that she’s currently fucking. We got to talking and he informed me that his cousin works at that tattoo place downtown and that they were going there to take him a coffee. One thing led to another, and somehow I wound up tagging along.”
“Somehow?”
Jodi ignores me and continues her story. “So there I was, browsing through the artwork, and I get this feeling. Like I just knew that something was about to happen.”
“The sight?”
“Right. So I looked up and there was this drop-your-panties-right-this-minute, gorgeous guy looking at me. I could barely breathe because my mind was trying to wrap itself around his insane body and he walked right up to me in all of his tattooed, raven-haired, sex-on-a-stick glory and asked me out. No pretenses—just told me that he was into me and wanted to take me out sometime. Aimee, I swear that he got my ovaries quaking before I even found out that his name is Kyle.”
I feel my forehead crinkle. Two days ago she told me that the ex-boyfriend, Jason, gave her the most earth-shattering orgasm of her life. “Um. What about Jason?”
Her right eyebrow quirks up. “Jason who?”
“You’re terrible.” I shake my head, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. “For a second when you said that you were thinking about tattoos, I thought you were going to tell me that you wanted to get one.”
Jodi’s head tilts to one side. A chunk of blue hair falls into her eyes. “Oh, I do. Ever since last night…” She says it like it’s been twelve years, not twelve hours. “I’ve been seeing myself with a really cool design from here to here.” She indicates almost her entire upper back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade.
“That’s, um, pretty big. Why not start with something smaller and work your way up?”
“Because that’s not how I do things. Plus,” she taps her forehead, “I’ve already foreseen my mother’s reaction and any future regret that I might have over the ink will be dwarfed by the satisfaction that her shock will provide me.”
“Well, that’s… really, um… exciting. I can’t wait to meet Kyle.” I smile tentatively and look back to the keys of my laptop. We’re in the eastern corner of the second floor of the library in a quiet nook that I discovered during the third week of school. Jodi knows that she can usually find me here, sitting at a study carrel, between classes.
“Who knows… I might even love him.”
This snaps my head up. “Love?” I squeak. “You met him yesterday!”
“I know but…” She laughs, flutters her fingers against her cheek.
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t really buy into the insta-love thing. Love isn’t an accident or something that just…” I search for the right word. “… happens when you’re not looking. Love is a choice, not a chance.”
“Okay, maybe love was to strong of a word. But I do think that insta-something can happen. All it takes is one second, one brush of a finger to feel that… possibility. I can’t really explain it, but it’s like a connection or a sensation that radiates all through your body. Hot and cold. Excited and subdued all at once. And maybe that sounds crazy but I know that it’s real. I know it because I’ve felt it in here.” She sighs and points to her chest right above where her heart sits. “Haven’t you ever had that happen to you? Isn’t that what you felt like when you saw Cole for the first time?”
My breath catches in the back of my throat. Cole. I shake my head. “Jodi, that’s not—it’s not…”
She folds her hands together as if she’s about to start praying. “I take it from that look that you’re giving me and the general aura of sexual dissatisfaction emanating from you that things with the hot and tasty runner remain the status quo?”
I know exactly what she’s asking and I don’t think that I’m ready to have this conversation. Again.
“If by ‘status quo’ you mean ‘friends,’ then, yes, we’re still friends. He’s a total movie buff so he comes over some nights and we’ll watch something that I haven’t seen before and that’s about it. It’s not… it’s not a big deal.”
Jodi examines my face. “If you say so.” That’s all she says, but it’s the way that she says it that has me feeling off-kilter.
I know how things with Cole look, and I know how they feel—I just don’t know what to do about it.
For the last couple of weeks we’ve been hanging out. At least that’s what I think I’m supposed to call it if I have to call it anything. Most nights he comes to my place after he’s done training and we eat dinner, do our homework, and usually we wind up on my bed listening to music or watching a movie. And, despite what my sister thinks, watching a movie is not a euphemism for anything else.
I don’t understand it any more than Jodi or Mara, but I don’t need to sit around picking apart our relationship to know that I like being around Cole. He’s fun. He makes me laugh. It’s almost embarrassing how much I’ve started craving the low grumble of his pick-up truck and the sound of his flip-flopped feet stamping up the walkway in front of the townhouse. After a year of darkness, Cole is like a burning star brightening up my sky.
“Did he like the article?”
The article that I wrote about Cole and submitted for class was published in the student newspaper this past Friday. I can’t hide the curl of my lips as I say, “Yeah, he did. He sent a copy of it to his little sister.”
“Hmm. Cute. Very cute.” Jodi twirls a strand of blue hair over her index finger. “So, the assignment’s over, but loverboy is still hanging around? How interesting.” She puts on a mocking tone and narrows her gaze.
“He hasn’t tried anything with me,” I tell Jodi because it’s the truth.
She’s quiet. It’s like she’s sifting through the questions in her head, looking for the right one. Finally: “Do you want him to?”
Ah. Do I want Cole Everly to try anything with me?
My thoughts about Cole are so all over the place, it’s like everything inside of me is turning off and on all at once. He hasn’t asked me out on a date since that night back in August when we were both at Dirty Ernie’s. He flirts with me but that seems to be ingrained in his DNA so it’s not like I can take him seriously.
Cole hasn’t tried to kiss me. He doesn’t gawk at my body. God. He
barely looks—not even when I’m lying next to him on my bed in nothing but my sleep camisole and a pair of cotton shorts. What we’ve got going on is a strange kind of friendship, but that’s all it’s been so far. A friendship.
I lift my chin and wince a little. “Does it matter if I do?”
Jodi snorts discordantly. “What is this—1952 and you need to have your Great-Aunt Gertrude chaperone your outings? If you want Cole in your bed then you need to tell him so. Or better yet, show him that you want him. Men are better with visuals anyway.” She looks a combination of frustrated and amused. “Aimee, it’s obvious to everyone on the planet that he’s lusting so hard for you that he can barely see straight. Why not put the poor guy out of his misery?”
My mind is whirling and I say the first words that pop in my mouth. “I don’t date.”
“First of all, I didn’t say that you had to date him, did I?” Jodi waits for me to acknowledge her question with a shake of my head. “Second, what makes you think that what you’re doing with Cole right now is so different from dating him?”
My voice is barely audible. “I don’t know.”
Cole
“You’re joking?” I ask even though I know that she’s not.
Aimee gives an exaggerated shrug and squishes up her nose. I love when she does that. “You say that every time.”
She’s right. I do.
“I say it because I’m horrified every time and I keep hoping that you’ll tell me that this has all been some elaborate hoax.”
Aimee draws her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on the tops of her kneecaps. She smiles at me thoughtfully and waves her hand around the room. “Hmm. Horrified? Really? It seems to me that you’re thrilled to be in charge of expanding my cinematic repertoire.”
Right again.
I can feel her blue eyes all over me as I mess around with the cable attached to my laptop and the volume of the TV in her bedroom. Monday it was The Exorcist. Last night we watched the first of the Halloween movies. And tonight I’m cueing up The Ring. Starting with Caddyshack a couple of weeks back, Aimee and I have been systematically working our way through all of my movies. This girl has seen next to nothing and I’ve made it a personal crusade to change that.
When I turn back to Aimee, she’s pulled off her oversized grey hoodie and is leaning against the pillows of her bed with her right hand flat on her stomach. Damn it. She’s wearing that pajama top again—the creamy one that barely covers anything. I suck air through my teeth and look away so that I don’t stare at the outline of her dark nipples through the fabric.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Aimee starts. “What’s with all of the scary movies this week?”
You’ve got to be kidding me, I think as my mind pushes aside the memory of Aimee grabbing my arm and scooting closer to me during some of the tenser scenes last night. There’s no way that I’m going to answer her question honestly and fess up to resorting to pathetic gimmicks, so I mutter something noncommittal under my breath and hope that she’ll fucking drop it where she found it.
“Ah, well I kind of like them,” she says, watching me carefully. The glow from the TV casts her pale face in a bluish-silver light. “Who would have thought that I’d be into horror movies, right?”
My eyebrows lift. “Just wait until we’re an hour into this one tough girl, and then you can tell me if you still think that you like scary movies. I’ve been taking it easy on you up until now. Let’s get started because I have to be out of here a little earlier than usual tonight.”
Behind me, Aimee’s soft voice cuts through the air. “Why? Do you have a hot date later?”
My head whips around. Is she fucking serious? Shit. I can tell by the look on her face that she is completely serious and it’s like everything in the room takes a ninety-degree swing.
“No,” I grumble, straining to move past the nastiness that’s lodged itself in my throat. I haven’t even wanted to look at another girl in weeks. Fuck. I’m completely pissed off. Aimee and I haven’t talked about this kind of thing before and I didn’t think that this was how we’d start.
“It would be okay if you did.” She looks mildly uncomfortable. Her skin is flushed and she pulls absently on the ends of her hair. “I mean—I don’t want to be the one sucking up all of your time. I know that you had a life before you met me and that you...” Now her cheeks go ridiculously red. “Have stuff that you might need to do sometimes.”
I’m racking my brain, wondering why she’s bringing this shit up now. Is she trying to ease me off because she’s met someone? Maybe it’s a guy from one of her classes? The thought worms its way inside of me and spreads like acid through my limbs.
“Trust me, Aimee. I still have a life and I can always find time for stuff,” I say, knowing that I sound like a real dick. That’s fine because I am a dick. I always have been. “But that’s not why I need to get home tonight. I need actual sleep because I’ve got a fucking early practice in the morning. Plus, I still need to pack because we leave tomorrow around lunch for that race up in Gainesville.”
This weekend is the triathlon that Quentin, Brady, Nate and I have been training for. I’ve been dreading it. Not because of the race—I love the rush and the adrenaline. The truth is that I haven’t been looking forward to so many days away from Aimee. And in light of the way that tonight is going, how fucking pathetic is that?
Aimee’s face is unflinching. She doesn’t wish me luck, or tell me that she’ll miss our movie nights. All she says is, “Oh.”
That one word—that one gimpy sentiment digs its way under my skin and stays there.
“Yeah, I would have asked you to come because we’re going to be going out afterward, but you don’t drive, do you?” Fuck. It’s like I’ve just jumped out of a plane without a parachute. I know that she doesn’t like to talk about this stuff and that I’m being a total bastard on purpose.
I know some of the facts but that doesn’t mean that I know the story. Daniel won’t answer my questions and Aimee sure as hell doesn’t want to talk. And up until this point, I haven’t forced any of the thousand and one questions going through my head. I’ve been happy to live in each moment—one after the other—like there’s nothing behind us, and nothing in front of us because I’ve been thinking… I don’t even know what I’ve been thinking.
I keep looking hard and Aimee tugs self-consciously on her hair. Her bottom lip is lost between her teeth. I should let it go, but I can’t stop myself. “Why don’t you drive, Aimee? Tell me. Is it about the accident last year because I looked up an article online and you weren’t even driving, were you?”
We’ve spent all this time together and I know so many things about her that I could fill up an entire book, but I don’t know any of the important stuff. I know that she prefers cherry pie to peach pie, and that her relationship with her mother is crap, and that she’s more of a dog person than a cat person, and that British humor makes her laugh, but those aren’t all of the pieces to the puzzle. Not by a long shot.
Aimee’s eyes are so wide and shiny it’s almost like they’ve taken over the rest of her face. Finally, she whispers so low that I barely hear her, “I don’t want to tell you.”
I’d been prepared for her to blow me off so it’s not like I’m knocked off my feet or anything. “Yeah fine,” I say stiffly. This conversation really couldn’t have gone worse. I’m tired and now I feel like everything is fucked. “That’s what I figured.”
“Cole, I—”
I put my hand up to cut her off. “You don’t have to explain. Let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”
Aimee is sitting up now. She lifts her hand to my shoulder and lets it slip all of the way down my arm until her fingers are wrapped tightly around mine. My breath hitches imperceptibly and it takes everything I have not to squeeze back.
“I don’t want to tell you,” she’s stumbling over the words, “because I’m afraid that when I do, you won’t understand and this whole thing will be over.”
“What the hell does that mean, Aimee?”
She is still looking at me, holding my hand, and I’m struggling to remember why I got mad in the first place.
“I don’t know how to explain, but will you just give me a little more time? I don’t want you to go anywhere just yet,” she says, her face clouding over.
“What are you talking about?” I sit down on the edge of the bed and pull her hand into my lap. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t say that.” She closes her eyes and I think it’s to keep from crying. “That’s what everyone says.”
Aimee
It turns out that I am not as tough as I proclaimed earlier and horror movies might not be my thing after all. I feebly tell Cole this and he ends up staying over. He actually seems pleased to be thrown into the role of my protector. Maybe it’s an alpha male thing.
It’s uncomfortable at first—with him on one side of my queen bed and me on the other, but eventually the weirdness is replaced by sleep. And we do, in fact, sleep.
His phone alarm goes off when my bedroom is still pitched in the slanting amber light of dawn. A high-pitched electronic whine jolts me out of a good dream and it’s a few anxious heartbeats before I remember why I’m so warm in my bed and whose skin is pressed up against mine. With a muffled moan and an unwelcome gust of cold air, Cole slips out of the sheets and stands by the bed. I hear him pull on his jeans and search around my desk for his keys and wallet.
Before he leaves, he hovers over my body for a long moment. He’s not touching me, but I can feel his heat and his breath on my skin even through the fabric of the sheets. I know that I should roll over to let him know that I’m awake. I should wish him good luck or positive vibes for the race or something. Instead, I let him place a quick kiss on my forehead and disappear without any words exchanged. Maybe it’s because I’m infamously bad with mornings. Or maybe it’s the goodbyes that I can’t seem to get right.
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