Effortless With You

by Lizzy Charles

  “Anymore fainting?” Justin asks.

  “Nope. I’m one hundred percent.”

  “When do you feel able to return to work? Any restrictions?” Justin acts so professional in front of my parents.

  “Umm …” I look at Dad. He shakes his head and looks toward Mom. I can’t believe it. They’re still expecting me to do this.

  “How about I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we can see how you handle it?” Justin offers.

  I’m defeated. “Fine,” I mutter. At least I won’t have to be stuck at home with Mom all day. There’s no way she’s going to let me hang out at the pool with Marissa if I’m not well enough to work. I open the kitchen door, hinting at Justin to leave.

  Justin takes my lead. “Well, Mrs. Zwindler. It was nice to see you again. Mr. Zwindler, always a pleasure.” My parents respond with enthusiastic goodbyes. Why does he have to act so perfect around them? He’s so fake. Justin looks back at me. “Lucy, I have your lunch bag in my car.”

  “Right,” I sigh. Why didn’t he just bring it in with him? I walk out, leaving him behind. He can follow when he’s ready. I sit down on the front porch; his appreciation for the fertilized tulip bulbs floats out the window. His mom is apparently very excited. Yeah, right. I picture the tulip bulbs abandoned in a trash can or, more likely, flung onto the side of the road.

  Finally, the front door swings open and he steps out alone. “So, Lucind-”

  “Don’t call me Lucinda.” I stand up, crossing the lawn to his truck.

  “Why not? It’s your name.”

  I groan. “Just don’t.”

  “No problem. Lucinda is too proper for you anyway. You threw up in my front seat. A Lucinda wouldn’t have done that.”

  I cringe. Justin opens the passenger door. I walk over, bracing myself for the smell of vomit. Instead, a lemon-fresh scent greets me. Scrubbed swirls decorate the floored upholstery.

  “I’ll pay you back. How much did it cost?”

  He lifts his eyebrow. “What cost?”

  “The interior cleaning.”

  “Oh, nothing.” He shrugs. “I did it myself.”

  “You cleaned up my puke?”

  “Someone had to do it.” He shrugs again while reaching under the seat to grab my lunch bag. “So,” Justin chuckles and looks back at me with a smug look on his face. “I learned a lot about you yesterday.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Like what?” I want to ignore him but I can’t. I need to know.

  “Well, you have more to say than you let people know. Also, you are not my number-one fan. And you throw a good punch.” He points to his eye. I step close to him, he smells like mountains. I breathe through my mouth. A light crescent bruise rests under his red, broken-vesseled eye. I hadn’t noticed it before because it is easier to find comebacks when I don’t make prolonged eye contact.

  “Sorry.” I apologize before I can think. “You probably deserved it though.” I don’t want him to add the knight-in-shining-armor complex to his ego.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” I can’t tell if he is being sarcastic or not. Does he actually feel like he deserved it? Because he did.

  He lets his bright green eyes linger on mine. I look away. I’m not falling for that charm. We stand in silence for a moment. He pulls out his phone, returns a text, and checks the time. “Well, I’ve got to get back to the house. Alex hasn’t shut up about you. He thinks this is his fault. He’s dying to find out if you are okay.”

  “He told me to eat and drink from the hose. Not his fault.”

  “Right, that’s what I told him. You’re the one who decided to run a mile and refuse to eat. Smart choices, Zwindler.”

  “Just leave, okay? I already have to deal with you tomorrow.”

  He jumps in the driver’s seat and rolls down the window. “We’ll see if you can handle it.” He winks the eye I punched. I wish I had punched harder. “Lucy,” Justin throws my lunch bag out the window toward me. It lands just short of my feet. “Bring food. Don’t be a liability.” The truck sputters away.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Zach smiles when he sees me get out of the car. With his arms wrapped around me, we sway in the parking lot while he talks with Matt, the junior lacrosse captain, about upcoming practices. I love it. Things are simple with Zach. He doesn’t need to say hello or ask how I am. He knows I need him the moment he looks at me. It’s nice to know I’m dating a guy who automatically opens his arms when I need it.

  “Come on, lovebirds.” Marissa tugs on Zach’s arm. “Let’s eat.” Zach unwraps his arms and takes my hand.

  “Sounds good,” Matt adds quietly. He walks out in front of us, confident in walking alone. Marissa positions herself next to Matt to chat, leaning in toward him and casually bumping him with her arm. She laughs and tosses her hair over her shoulder. Matt smiles back, becoming more and more interested in whatever she is talking about.

  I sigh. I like Matt. He’s in my math class and never asks stupid questions and takes perfectly formatted notes. His kind smile becomes a loose, goofy grin around Marissa. I wish she would have chosen another guy to flirt with. Matt isn’t the type of guy that deserves to be treated like a toy.

  It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting in Old Minnie after we walk through the door. Deep mahogany booths are the only seating option and in the corner stands a large, carved bar. Off of the dining area are pool tables and old arcade games. Top-40 music covers the constant hum of conversation. It’s the perfect neighborhood bar and grill. Marissa’s choice, of course.

  We all slide into our booth. I grab Zach’s attention, before his teammates can.

  “Zach,” I touch his arm. He puts his hand over mine. “How was practice today?”

  “Awesome, the guys killed the drills. We’re gonna be unstoppable this year. Right?” Zach high-fives Chaz across the table. I re-touch his arm, bringing him back to me.

  “How was your day?” he asks.

  “Honestly? Kind of crappy. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through.”

  “I bet. Your mom’s a crazy mess. I’m sure you’ve had a hell of a time.”

  I groan. “I know, right?” Zach is good at sympathizing. “They actually made me get a job.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. I’ve been painting for Purposeful Painting Inc. It’s basically boot camp.”

  “Oh, that’s like Justin’s crew, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, that must suck. What an egomaniac.”

  “I know. He seriously drives me crazy. The way he’s always pulling his hands through his hair. What’s with that?”

  Zach pauses, his temple throbbing. “He thinks he’s a god. The moral absolute,” he says as he squeezes his hand around the salt shaker. I love that I’m dating a guy who sees through Justin’s crap. Zach’s hand turns red, his knuckles white. Will the shaker break? I haven’t ever handled Zach when he was angry and I don’t want to tonight. I want tonight to be relaxing.

  “He’s totally not worth it.” I scan the room for a distraction. I notice an advertisement on the table top for their new two-pound burger. I point to the ad. “Zach, do you think you can handle it?” He’s the competitive type; easily distracted by a challenge. I watch his grip loosen on the salt.

  “With my appetite?” Zach often brags about his stomach being a bottomless pit. “Babe, I’d need two.” He throws a rolled-up piece of his napkin at Miguel, getting his attention. “Are you guys in? How many can we eat?” Zach stands up and flags the waitress down.

  Matt and Marissa join the booth, pulling up two chairs to the end of the table. Zach orders everyone the burger. He orders himself two. Marissa protests, it’ll totally ruin her figure. Inevitably, all the guys check her out.

  She leans her chair in toward Zach. “You can’t make me eat it,” she says slowly. Wait, is she fake flirting with Zach for a reaction? I watch her quickly pull away from him. No. That was just her way of trying to be in con
trol.

  Marissa is acutely aware of her sex appeal. She switches spots with Miguel because she can’t be comfortable in her skirt on a chair. Miguel doesn’t protest as he eyes Marissa’s legs. She sits kitty-corner on the booth from me now, smartly positioning herself between Matt and Chaz, who have huge biceps. Marissa bats her eyelashes. I seriously thought they only did that in old Hollywood films.

  She’s having a blast.

  The burgers arrive and loud, competitive chaos follows. Zach easily wins the chowing competition. Marissa doesn’t touch hers. I eat a quarter of my burger and that’s only because Zach cheered me on. The meat sits heavy and slows everything down. All I want to do is go back to Zach’s arms around me and talking. Will Zach and I ever get time alone? A chance to connect?

  The odds are not in my favor. Zach and Matt are running new offensive strategies by Chaz and Miguel. I barely understand what they’re saying. Lacrosse is a mystery sport to me. I prefer games played on a court, like basketball or tennis, rather than a field. Marissa keeps trying to interject her thoughts about new ideas for shots for the school yearbook. They ignore her.

  “Enough, men. Why don’t we play a little pool?” Marissa stands up and stretches next to the table. “Will someone teach me? I need a teammate.” Marissa turns, bending down to grab her purse to make the perfect butt view. I blush for her. Chaz and Miguel stand, shoving one another out of the way. Matt looks at me. I cuddle close to Zach. I want to stay. Matt nods, pushes his chair away from the table and follows.

  We are finally alone. Zach looks down at me and smiles.

  “So,” I don’t know where to begin.

  “So?” He lightly cups his hand on my chin, tilting it up toward him. “So,” he says again. He looks me in the eyes before bringing his lips to my mouth. He moves his hand around my back, holding me and pressing himself to me. His mouth moves too fast and my head starts to spin. I grab a breath during one of his pauses, trying to reorient to the situation.

  We are in a family restaurant. Making out in a booth.

  In front of everyone.

  I lightly press my hand to his chest. “Zach.” He moves in closer, kissing me farther into the corner. I pretend to laugh. “Zach, not here.” I push my hand against his chest a bit harder. I don’t want to be that couple. He tries kissing me again but I duck away.

  “Fine,” he says, pulling away from me. “So?”

  “Can we just talk a bit?”

  He shrugs. “If that’s what you want.” His hand moves back to the salt shaker. He starts pouring salt out in a little mountain on the table.

  “It’s not that I don’t like kissing you. You’re really good at it.” I nudge him. He gives me his crooked smile. “I just want to tell you about the hospital.”

  “The hospital? What happened?” The salt mountain grows larger. I scoot closer and interlace my fingers in his salt-shaker free hand. I tell him about the fainting and the emergency room. The salt shaker is almost empty so I skip everything about my parents. When I get to the nurse’s part, his eyes drift toward the billiards room. I have to admit, he isn’t the best listener. I change topics mid-sentence, trying to reel him back in.

  “So then I guess I punched Justin. He’s got a big black eye,” I exaggerate.

  Zach’s attention returns. “That’s my girl. I knew I liked you for a reason.”

  I knew I liked you for a reason. Was he trying to remember this whole time why he liked me?

  “Listen, how about we go play pool? I’m amazing. You can be on my team.” He stands up and holds out his hand.

  I hold in a sigh. That’s the last thing I want to do. I know guys aren’t like characters in the movies that sweep you off your feet, but it’d be nice if he had a bit more patience for my story. But there’s no use forcing someone to listen. I reach out, allowing him to lead me to the other room.

  Marissa yanks me aside when we arrive. “What’s wrong with you? I just saw you completely smothered by Zach at the table—”

  “I know. I made him stop so people wouldn’t get uncomfortable.”

  “No. That’s not what I mean. Why do you look so depressed? You just kissed a super hot guy. Smile or you’ll lose him.” I take a deep breath. Sometimes Marissa can be too pushy. But there’s no way I can confront her here. Not now. She’s always apologetic when I point it out to her in private. She doesn’t do well with confrontation in public. So, I give her my best smile.

  “Good,” she whispers.

  Drama avoided.

  “Who’s up for a new game? Teams?” Zach announces. “So Lucy and I versus Matt and Miguel?” I scan the room, looking for a way out. I suck at pool. I spot a familiar bushy head of hair. Alex smiles and waves at me.

  “Actually, Zach, I need to go take care of something.” I nod toward Alex waving at the other end of the room.

  “Oh, is that one of your new painting geeks?”

  “Something like that.” I want to say that he is actually nice but the look on Zach’s face makes me stop. He glares at Alex, obviously not a fan.

  “Suit yourself. I’m not really into hanging out with kids.”

  “Want to win a game with me?” Marissa asks Zach.

  I bite the inside of my cheek. This is so wrong. I don’t need to watch Marissa fake flirt anymore, especially if it involves Zach. I’d rather hang out with kids.

  Alex’s smile grows as I walk over. At least someone likes me.

  “Lucy, you’re alive!” He gives me a quick hug.

  “Yup.” I hug him back.

  Alex turns and taps a cute freckled girl on the shoulder. “Sally, this is Lucy. Lucy, this is my girlfriend Sally.” I smile back. Her rich red hair is fixed in a cute, chopped bob, which her flowing tank dress and Converse shoes only accentuate. She has that 1950’s glamorous build to her in cute, punk clothing.

  “Your boyfriend tried to save my butt the other day,” I explain. “He’s a smart guy.” Alex beams and Sally looks up at him with green doe eyes. I wonder if that’s how Zach and I look together.

  “Smart? Are you sure you’ve got the right guy?” She nudges Alex in the side and he laughs. She’s playful, perfect for him.

  “Sally’s a genius and loves to let me know it.” Alex turns to her. “Lucy’s the girl I’ve been telling you about. The one who got sick. You know, the girl who punched Justin in the hospital.”

  “How’d you know I punched him?”

  “I was in the truck bed. When Justin came out of the ER, he had a bag of ice on his eye. He told me to shove it. Solid punch, Lucy.” He puts his arm around Sally, being a good boyfriend. She is his priority.

  “When are you coming back?”

  “Tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’m going to be the best painter ever,” I lie.

  “You ready for that ladder again?” he asks as he rubs Sally’s shoulder.

  “Absolutely, all the way up.” Alex’s friends shuffle behind him, pool sticks and chalk in hand. “Well, I’ll let you go. See you in the morning?”

  “Bright and early.”

  I return to Zach’s side and watch him win their doubles game. He puts his arm around me and I blush. He loves wrapping his arm around me. Marissa winks at me on the way to the restroom.

  “Darts?” Zach nods toward the board across the room where a group of guys have gathered. Throwing a dart in front of all of those guys doesn’t promise a shining moment for me. Or for Zach.

  “Uh, not really. But, listen, that doesn’t mean you can’t go play.” I’m a super-relaxed girlfriend. “Wouldn’t bother me a bit.”

  “Really? Awesome.” He dashes across the room and grabs the darts out of Matt’s hand.

  And there I am again, standing alone.

  So, I go to the bathroom. Something to do.

  I sit alone in the stall reading graffiti. Jenny <3’s Danny. Payton is a whore. Today, I will make a change! The walls are a mosaic of proclamations of love, life advice, and insults. My right thumb nail is rather sharp. I think about carving in my own life
statement. What should I say? Don’t fall off ladders. Not amazing but whatever, it’s something to do while Zach plays darts. I start carving the D.

  A clicking pair of high heels pass in front of my stall and the sink turns on. I see a pair of Converse sneakers pass in front as well. Why did I choose the middle stall? It always feels weird knowing people are standing right in front of me while I’m peeing. Thankfully, I’m just carving the wall.

  “Excuse you.” It’s Marissa’s voice.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the sink would spray you.” The voice is gentle and sweet. Converse shoes. Sally.

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t realize that, would you? You are just a stupid, ignorant … like … what? Twelve year old?” Marissa is looking hard for a fight. Sally looks more like an eighteen-year-old than her true fourteen-year-old self. If Marissa accused twelve, that means she’s jealous.

  My abs tighten. A jealous Marissa meant for a nasty confrontation. I pick my feet up off the ground, not wanting to be there.

  “Oh.” Sally isn’t prepared with a comeback. She shows weakness and Marissa pounces.

  “What are you doing in here anyway?”

  “Uh, going to the bathroom?”

  “Well, this is the girls’ bathroom.”

  “I know.” Oh sweet Sally. She is going to have to do better than that.

  “Do you? Because with your hair, I’m pretty sure you’re an altar boy from the 1800s.”

  “I—”

  “Actually, no. If you were, you’d be skinny. I’m sorry,” Marissa’s heels click closer. “I was mistaken. You look more like a state-fair swine. All those pink, red, and disorderly freckles.”

  Marissa is really stretching for insults. This only strengthens Sally’s case for being gorgeous. But, at fourteen, how can she know?