That was, until I was alone with nothing to dam the flood of my own imagination.
As the numbers on my clock changed, marking the passage of each and every minute they spent together, I tortured myself by living their date in my mind. At seven, I imagined him at her house, making small talk with her father while he waited for her to finish getting ready. Of course, when she came into the room, he would kiss her on the cheek and tell her how pretty her mousy hair looked. He would hold the door for her as they left, assuring her father that he would be a gentleman and have her home on time. I’d love to just slam the door in her face and take him on our own date.
At seven thirty, I thought about them having dinner together at some secluded, dimly lit restaurant where he would hold her hand as they decided between the pasta and the chicken. Of course Jamie and I would have been taken out and beaten for that same handholding. The injustice of it rankled me, and I looked around my room for something to distract me from the mounting anger.
The book managed to hold my attention for about an hour, by which time I imagined they’d be at the movies. Emma would probably pick something sickeningly romantic, or maybe something scary so Jamie would have to hold and console her. While he sat in the theater with his arms around her, trying to calm her fears, would she turn her face and kiss him? Maybe they were making out in the back row, while I sat gripping his paperback tight enough to rip the spine.
When I glanced at the clock again, it was nearly ten. Surely the movie was over. What will they be doing now? Jamie didn’t have to have Emma home until eleven since school was out. I tried desperately not to imagine them driving out to the bluffs. The kissing I’ve learned to tolerate, but what if she talks him into something more? I could just see her wondering if maybe he didn’t like girls because he didn’t want to feel her up. Nausea made my stomach churn at the thought of her hands under his shirt on his perfect bare chest or of her unzipping his jeans.
Jamie would do anything to protect us, to protect me.
Damn it, it’s supposed to be me he’s out with, not her. Not her!
I doubted I would ever really know what happened between them, because Jamie would do everything he could to spare my feelings. There was no way I would be able to sleep that night with my mind racing with all the possible things that… girl had done with my Jamie. Setting my useless paperback book aside, I went down the hall to the bathroom and pulled the allergy medication Carolyn used from the medicine cabinet. I’d seen her take it enough times to know it was supposed to make you sleepy. I popped two pills from the foil wrapping and took them with a paper cup of water before returning to my room. I’d never taken anything like that before, but I just couldn’t stand the pictures in my head anymore.
I lay down on my bed, closed my eyes, and dreamed of my own date with Jamie.
“LET’S go out,” I suggested quietly to Jamie as we finished the supper dishes. Tonight was the first time we’d seen each other in a week. He had been spending time with Emma, building the farce and adding to the charade. Their displays of affection continued to irk me, but I kept my feelings to myself; Jamie didn’t need the added stress of my discontent. The imaginary relationship, imaginary to him at least, was taking its toll. He felt deep-seated guilt for lying to her; I could hear it as he slept during our nights together. Tossing and turning, moaning and murmuring in his sleep, it was fairly obvious that his conscience, his soul, was tormented. I didn’t feel the need to add to the torment by asking if he’d felt her up yet, so mostly we avoided talking about her. Deep down, I didn’t really want to know anyway.
“What do you mean?” he asked, setting the plate he had been washing back into the hot soapy water before turning to look at me. It took me a moment to stop imagining those warm suds over his naked hip and stomach. My mind wandered briefly, as it had done so often of late, over what it would be like when we didn’t have to hide anymore. Heaven could be defined simply by taking a long shower with Jamie and not having to worry about parents or anyone else coming between us. His expectant expression caught my eye.
“On a date,” I explained in a low voice so Richard and Carolyn wouldn’t hear me. “I want to go out, just you and me—maybe dinner and a movie?” I had been thinking about asking him for weeks without any real expectations, but now that it was out there, my hope grew exponentially. I had been saving the pocket money I’d received from Carolyn for weeks now in order to pay for it. Since I was asking him, I would be the one paying. He would still have to drive, but it would be a real date, just us.
“Are you crazy?” he growled at me under his breath. “Why don’t we just go ahead and bring along the bats they can use to beat us to death with?” His tone was cold, mocking. I was instantly disappointed, and angry.
I had no answer for him.
I turned, drying the glass in my hand, so he wouldn’t see the pain in my face. This was just one more thing that girl could have with Jamie that I could not. They could get married, have kids, and still be invited to the Sunday barbecue. Jamie and I could have none of that; we would always be outcasts because of what we felt for each other. We couldn’t even have one simple date. Everything was about her, not about us.
According to the clock on the microwave, we continued to do the dishes, not speaking, for exactly seventeen minutes. Focusing on the clock instead of Jamie’s silence and anger made the time actually pass instead of solidify like the feeling in my chest. I hung the damp towel on one of the drawer handles while he rinsed out the sink.
Then I just stood there, waiting.
“Let’s take the garbage out,” he mumbled, pulling the half-empty bag out the back door, which he left open behind him. I followed reluctantly, feeling once again like a petulant child. I hated feeling like that, hated that we were forced to resort to talking about our love life over the garbage cans in our back alley.
“We shouldn’t have to hide,” I told him once he’d pushed the bag down into the can and replaced the lid. He sighed, and despite the fact he was only seventeen years old, he sounded weary.
“I agree, we shouldn’t. In a perfect world, it should be you I’m holding hands with while walking down the street. It would be you I’m kissing after a romantic date. We don’t live in a perfect world, Brian. In this world, in the reality we live in, if anyone realizes just how much I care for you, it could mean both of our lives. Is one date, one night spent in the company of others, really worth that?”
“I’m not talking about sitting in your lap in the movie theater! I’m talking about going out for crappy fast food and an action flick that no self-respecting girl would go see with us. I’m talking about just maybe getting a little bit of what that girl gets with you. Apparently, that’s all I deserve, and I won’t touch you.” For the first time, rather than looking down and getting teary, I looked him straight in the eye.
“Brian, I—” he started, but I cut him off.
“Let’s go inside. Maybe we can sit at opposite sides of the couch and watch a movie.” I held my arm out, palm up, indicating for him to go first. He looked at me and then began walking back up the weed-strewn sidewalk to the house. His footsteps were slow and heavy as we made our way up the back porch, but instead of going inside, I leaned in and closed the heavy wooden door and sat down on the worn wicker couch.
Jamie sat next to me and, under the cover of the dark night, reached over and held my hand. We sat looking out at the backyard and listening to the crickets for a long time. Then he squeezed my hand, and when I looked over at him, his face was impassive.
“I’ll pick you up Friday night at seven, Brian.”
I nodded. I wanted to say more, but he squeezed my hand lightly again and then got up and walked into the house. I sat outside a few minutes longer, knowing that when I went back into the house, he would have gone home.
He had.
The next two days went painfully slowly without him. He was upset, that much was certain, but more than that, he was scared. He was also right. If anyone sus
pected we were more than just friends, they would hurt us. It was a whole new level of selfish for me. Not only was I putting myself at risk, but Jamie as well, and for what? We were perfectly happy in our tree house. I just wanted that one small thing, one small victory against them, those who hated us without knowing it. Emma Mosely had something of Jamie that I couldn’t have, and it made me mad because I wanted that kind of acknowledgement from him. I just hoped—no, prayed—it wouldn’t end up costing either of us more than we could afford to give.
By ten past seven on Friday night, I was starting to worry about Jamie. He had been late for school a few times and had come right down to the wire getting ready for church, but I felt unnerved that he wasn’t here yet. This date was important—to me, to us—and he knew that. He would have made an effort to be on time, wouldn’t he? The thought that someone had found out about us, that someone had hurt him, sent a chill through me. Stopping myself for what must have been the tenth time, I didn’t call him. I couldn’t appear too eager just to go out for burgers and an action movie. His parents might wonder. My emotions were going to be our undoing; I would just have to wait.
Five minutes later the soft knock on the door left me with residual anger and a lot of relief. The fear had burned off into anger, mostly at myself for being so ridiculous. The relief swelled as I opened the door and saw his perfect features. He was smiling, almost ruefully, as he stood there in a perfectly fitting T-shirt, one I hadn’t seen before, matched with jeans and canvas tennis shoes. With the way he was dressed, you wouldn’t think he was going on a date, but I saw the differences. He had made an effort to tame his shaggy blond hair. I’d taken similar care about my own appearance. For the first time since he’d said he’d pick me up, I felt hope.
“Bye, Carolyn!” I called over my shoulder in the general direction of the kitchen. I heard a noncommittal response as Jamie led me out of the house. He didn’t touch me, or even look at me, as we walked down the steps to the walkway. While I knew it was just for the benefit of the neighbors, I wondered if maybe I had made a mistake in asking him to go out on a date. I nearly ran into him as he took a sharp right and headed toward the back of the house, and I noticed for the first time that his car wasn’t out front.
“Are we walking?” I asked cautiously. “It’s going to take us all night to get to the theater that way.” Making a joke out of it would help take away the sting. Maybe his parents wouldn’t give him the car, or maybe he had changed his mind. When we walked around the corner of the house, he led me back up the driveway, where I saw the car sitting under the canopy of elm trees that stood sentinel near the old garage. Surprised, I walked to the passenger side while he got in the driver’s side. I waited for him to tell me why he’d chosen this location in which to park. Usually, he just parked on the street, never in the drive.
“I’m sorry I was late,” Jamie said as he reached behind my seat. He was so close as he searched the floorboard that I couldn’t stop myself from placing a small kiss on his neck. Thankfully we were surrounded by trees on one side and the house on the other. I couldn’t believe my boldness; all it would take would be Carolyn looking out the kitchen window, and it would be all over. Chastising myself, I sat back in the seat and looked nervously up toward the house and saw nothing.
Then the rose in Jamie’s hand passed in front of my eyes.
“It took me forever to get this out of my mother’s garden without anyone seeing me.” He set the rose on my leg under the line of sight provided by the car windows. I didn’t know what to say; I was relieved he was no longer angry. Setting the rose on the dash, I reached over to hold his hand because it was the one thing we could do inconspicuously. But instead, he took his keys and started the car, his face impassive as he backed out of the drive. For the rest of the ride to dinner, I stared out the window, feeling dejected. I know I had no right; I had practically forced the whole situation on him, but I had been planning this night, anticipating this time with him for weeks. It felt like everything had gone wrong before we ever even got out of the driveway.
When we pulled into the parking lot at the fast food place he’d decided on, I was disappointed to see it was almost full. We would have to be on our best behavior. He got out of the car and started to walk toward the door. Quickly I got out and followed him, feeling a lot like a stray puppy trying to get some kind of attention.
The place was packed with people, mostly teenagers I recognized from school but none I knew particularly well. They didn’t give us a second glance as we stood near the counter. Since I was the one paying and the place was almost overflowing, Jamie gave me his order and then went to find a booth. He walked off with his shoulders hunched and head down. I hated it. He was scared, and it was my fault.
I thought I would feel shy or awkward around him. First dates were supposed to be about getting to know each other, but we already knew everything about each other, especially because we had already been intimate. What was left to talk about, to discover about each other?
I set the tray down in front of Jamie, he glanced around nervously, and I felt a tightening in my chest. I sat across from him, took our food from the tray, and then set it near the back of the table. Jamie didn’t say anything as he stared at the paper-wrapped burger.
“Do you want to go home?” I whispered across the cheap Formica table. Raising his head, he looked at me, and I expected him to admonish me, to tell me this was my idea in the first place, but he just shook his head and opened his food. I glanced around to make sure no one was looking our way, and then I picked up my chicken sandwich. As I took the first bite, I slid my feet forward so that they were entwined with his. On such a busy night with so many customers, no one would notice how close our feet were under the table. After what felt like an eternity, his foot moved, caressing mine. Still not looking up, he turned up his mouth in a small smile, and I relaxed against the seat.
“What time does the movie start?” I asked, trying to strike up some kind of conversation. He hadn’t spoken to me since giving me his mumbled order. It didn’t matter what we talked about; I just wanted to hear his voice. The fear that I had pushed Jamie too far by insisting we go out, the fear that someone might see us there, was threatening to drown me. There was also the ever-present fear that I would fall even harder for him, and that when he did leave me for whatever reason, it would be that much harder to bear.
“It starts at eight fifteen. We should have plenty of time,” he said between sips of his soda. Not being able to think of anything else to say, I nodded.
“Did you see that Boltz is coming out soon?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going. He knew full well that I wasn’t really into video games, but I was glad he was making the effort. The tension in his shoulders had dissipated slightly, but he still looked wary. I rubbed my foot against his under the table, trying to show how much I appreciated him being here with me.
“No, I didn’t know that,” I told him, and he smiled, rubbing my leg again with his shoe. I relaxed somewhat at his touch, and that broke down the invisible barrier that had been between us.
We talked about everything and nothing for the next twenty minutes while we ate. Occasionally someone stopped by the table to say hi, and Jamie would tense, but generally we were left alone. The movie would be worse. Being in a dark theater alone with him and not being able to touch him would almost be physical torture. Too bad we hadn’t decided to go and play paintball instead. I’m sure he would have loved to shoot me right then.
On the long drive to the theater, we held hands, reveling in the physical contact, an indulgence we were rarely afforded. The perfect way his hand fit into mine helped to ease the dull ache of fear pressing on my chest. It was Friday night, and the theater parking lot was more crowded than the restaurant had been. I sighed, and Jamie squeezed my hand once before letting go. All of a sudden, I didn’t want to go inside. As I reached for the door handle, the fear surrounded me like a physical presence, pressing against me and escalating to the po
int of panic. The tightness in my chest made it hard to breathe. Jamie noticed I hadn’t gotten out of the car and came around to my door, opening it. I still couldn’t get out. Someone is going to know; they’ll be able to tell, and then they’ll hurt Jamie, and it will be my fault.
Why the hell hadn’t I just left well enough alone?
“We have to go in if we want to get good seats,” Jamie said quietly as he leaned on the top of the open door, an old black sweatshirt in his hand.
“I don’t care about good seats. You were right, maybe we should just go home,” I said, voicing my concern. We’d pushed our luck far enough.
“No. You were right, we shouldn’t have to hide. I’m just as scared, Brian. It would kill me if someone hurt you because of me. We can sit in the balcony, away from the others, and we should be okay.” His words came out in a breathless rush, and before I knew it, he was tugging my T-shirt to get me out of the car. I was sure he would have taken my hand if there hadn’t been so many people around, because it strayed toward me several times before we reached the theater.
Resigned, I followed Jamie past the rows and rows of cars on the way to the door of the theater, relaxing a bit when I didn’t see anyone I knew. We split up once we were inside. I bought our tickets while Jamie went to the concession stand. It didn’t matter that we’d just eaten dinner; popcorn and soda were a rite of passage for moviegoers everywhere. Since we weren’t able to go out often, we were damn sure going to make the very best of it.
Choices(Waiting for Forever BK 1) Page 10