by Ashley Munoz
I forced my eyes shut, shoving the nerves down like I did every day.
I didn’t have to look to know people were following him. Guys were offering their palms for high fives as girls smiled and vied for his attention. Jace divided the throng like a wave, like nothing and no one was of any consequence, at least not enough to stop him or snag his attention.
Except me.
I was the stone he crashed upon with force and destruction.
“Seeds.” His Southern lilt drew my eyes up. Striking blue orbs assessed me from under dark, drawn brows.
“Jace.” I exhaled, hoping he couldn’t hear the heavy thud in my chest at his presence. I hated him. I prayed he would get swept away in the Mississippi River on a regular basis…but more reverently, more secretly, I also wrote out the spelling of his last name in a thousand different fonts, testing to see how it would look attached to my first.
“If it isn’t my favorite Bible story,” he joked, slapping his palm to the locker above me.
I blushed, hating that he always did this. Everyone giggled and laughed at his loud declaration. Jace and I attended Sunday school together. Thankfully he didn’t do any of this fanfare there, but as soon as we were back in school, he was merciless with the jokes. In fact, it had been after a handful of Sundays that he’d chosen my nickname.
Seeds, as in faith the size of a mustard seed.
So lame.
“Seeds, did you have a good weekend? Do any reading?” He leaned in, brushing a lock of hair off my shoulder.
He knew I had because he’d seen me at the library on Saturday. He had ignored me, laughing with his two buddies, except for when he tossed a crumpled-up paper toward my empty study table.
I hadn’t even looked to see if something was written on it, because I knew whatever it was would hurt my feelings or make me blush.
I flicked my gaze to the far wall ahead of us. 7:40.
RING.
The bell announced that school was officially starting, forcing everyone to scatter. I would have let out a sigh of relief, but I knew too well that Jace wasn’t done.
He smirked, bending lower and inhaling a deep breath of…me.
Butterflies swarmed my chest as he closed his eyes, towering over me. His lips were so close.
It sent tiny shivers down my arms, like jagged arrowheads being shoved under my skin. Unpleasant fire burned in my lower belly at his nearness, the confusion of how my body reacted to him always made me emotional. I didn’t want to like him. I had someone…someone secret, but either way, Jace wasn’t him.
“I need to leave.” I shoved at his arm, and he moved but quickly fell in step behind me.
“Do you have any plans after school today, Seeds?” he asked as I stormed toward homeroom. Why does he care?
“I’m going to the library, if you must know.” I inwardly slapped myself. Why did I tell him that?
“Right after school? Have a hot date?” He picked up my ponytail, pinching the end between his thumb and pointer finger.
I stopped, forcing him to nearly crash into me. “No. I don’t have a hot date, but even if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your business.”
He smirked. “That’s where you’re wrong.” Rolling my eyes, I started to turn, but he stopped me. “What kind of guy would you date anyway?”
It sounded like he meant no one would want to date me, so naturally, hurt slipped in through my rib cage, attacking that useless thing in my chest.
“You know…the standard is pretty low. As long as he wasn’t you, he would have a shot.” I smirked, turning away from him. I stormed toward homeroom, where he couldn’t follow.
Thankfully.
Finally letting out a relieved sigh, I tugged the paper free from the pocket of my jeans and read what was written. In messy, sharp letters were the words: Science fiction - The Count of Monte Cristo - Chapter 12. I smiled, because secrets were what kept me going when Jace was a jerk to me. Secrets were what made this entire day worth it.
#
I counted down every second of the school day until I could walk two streets over to our public library. Throwing open the thick glass doors, I quietly padded in and toward the back.
My face was blotchy from the last run-in of the day with Jace. Like usual, he had found some way to run into me. He’d always lock eyes with me, like a missile seeking its target. I always tried to ignore him, but he’d just head in my direction with more vigor. Then, right as he got close enough, he would find a way to slam into me, and as always, it would send my books flying.
Most days I didn’t mind, because I had gotten used to it. However, today was important because I had a mock interview and my fake resume required perfection. It was the last class of the day, and I had managed to protect it all day.
That is, until that last class transition when my books fell and my crisp resume landed under the boot of Clay Anderson, who had just walked through a puddle. For one single moment I wanted to cry, maybe punch Jace in the face, because I needed an A on that project, not a B or anything lower. I had to get an A.
Mr. Brooks coldly told me I’d receive a B minus and that he was being generous. So now, as I sauntered through the library, I was trying to pull on the only happiness I had found in the entire day.
My secret.
The notes left in my locker would always provide a random location and the text of choice hidden somewhere in the mix. Obviously, The Count of Monte Cristo was no science fiction novel, but the thrill of it being tossed in and so out of place added to the excitement.
I ran my finger along the spines of different science fiction titles until the brown, cracked back with golden script caught my eye. The Count of Monte Cristo.
My stomach somersaulted as I tugged it free. As always, I looked around, wondering if my secret sharer was near, if for once I could get a glimpse of who it was that had been playing this game with me for the past year.
As usual, there was no one.
Unwilling to allow disappointment to sneak in, I anchored the book to my chest and walked toward the young adult section. Plopping down into a neon orange bean bag, I gently thumbed through the pages until I found chapter twelve.
A purple wildflower lay snugly in the center of the book, marking my route for reading. He’d already told me which chapter, so the flower wasn’t required, but heat rose up my neck as I carefully pulled it free. I loved that he always added a flower.
There, written in the margin, was his note.
Dear Pip,
While your take on the existence of jackelopes was fascinating,
I thought we could move past urban legends…
To something a little more…personal.
Tell me, since we both go to the same school…
Who do you like?
Who is it that’s in your head and has maybe captured your heart?
Sincerely,
The Fool
I smiled, tracing the letters in each shaded word. We only ever wrote in pencil because they were books and we weren’t monsters. I wondered how long we would play this game. He had told me enough about him for me to know I liked him, his hobbies and interests…but he had never suggested we meet one another.
How much longer would we leave each other these notes?
I was headed to high school at the beginning of fall—what would happen then?
Once I was back home in the safety of my room, I opened the book again and wrote my response.
Dear Fool,
If this is your way of asking if I have a boyfriend,
I don’t.
Now, why on earth would you be curious about who I like?
Sincerely,
Pip
I shut the book, smiling at the emptiness in my room as if it were a big, fat blob of invisible support.
I’d replace the book in the same place tomorrow for him to pick up. I hated that I didn’t have his locker number. I had no idea how he had learned where mine was, but it felt so unfair. I had asked him once for
his, but he’d said that would make it too easy for me to figure out who he was.
Almost an entire year of writing these notes and I was no closer to knowing who it was. The rage I had felt earlier because of Jace surfaced, forcing me to open the book. I didn’t care anymore, and I was tired of not knowing. I wanted someone in my life who liked me, who didn’t think I was a joke. I wanted someone to want me. Revisiting my written note, I added a bit at the bottom.
P.S. I think I might be in love with you…and I think we need to meet, because I’m tired of not knowing who you are. If you agree, set up our next book, and when I go to retrieve it, meet me.
Slamming the book shut, I sagged in my bed and relished the visions of who it could be and what their face would look like when they saw my bold suggestion. I imagined him leaning against the shelf, back turned toward me until he heard me approach. I imagined us telling our kids this story, and someday our grandkids.
My mind was getting away from me, but that’s what I did. I imagined things, all the way down to the kind of house we would have. My mother called me boy crazy, but I wasn’t. I was, however, enamored with the idea of love—real, true, genuine love.
I wanted the reckless kind of love that made people crazy, the kind that kept people connected over years and years, like the stars…always a part of our past, always present in our future.
#
Two weeks later
Thunder echoed in the distance. A blip of white light stretched across the velvet sky, acting like a beacon of terror. The low rumble of caution wrapped around me, and as always, it dared me to stay and watch.
Arms flung wide, eyes closed tight, I tipped my head back and smiled. The smell of wet earth and fresh rain overwhelmed my senses, dislodging my judgment. Instead of running for the lowest ground, I prepared my spot at the top of the tallest structure in the park. A tempest like this couldn’t be merely watched; it had to be experienced.
And why not push the limits of my safety? It didn’t matter anyway.
It wasn’t like I wanted to end my life; I just wouldn’t risk missing this storm to protect it.
It was all going blissfully perfectly until the sound of a flapping tarp tore me from my reverie. Reluctantly, I turned to inspect my shabby shelter. I had planned to take refuge on the little space of floor by attaching the cover to one pole and stretching it to the other.
It wouldn’t protect the entire platform, but at least it would work to shield me from the rain—except the bungee cord I had wrapped around one corner of the tower wasn’t cooperating, which had forced the entire panel to cave in. Soon it would be soaked with rain if I didn’t work fast. My mind wandered for the briefest of moments to my pen pal…to the notes we’d written in Moby Dick…to the one where he’d ended it.
I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m sorry.
Two weeks.
He had waited two weeks to reply to my confession.
When he had responded, he’d dumped me. It was far worse not even knowing what he looked like because I couldn’t put a face to my anger. I feared it would instead soak into the classics that held our secrets, which would ruin my love of books.
I moved, grabbing for the cord, holding it steady while another big gust of wind upended the other edge. The force had me careening backward toward the ladder. I gripped the railing, trying to get my bearings, but my feet faltered a few more steps. Panic seized me, frozen in my lungs as I registered how bad of an idea this was. Suddenly a warm hand covered my exposed arm, tugging me down.
I blinked, trying to process what had just happened. No one should have been out there. No one was ever out there except…
An angry boom cracked above me, followed by a raging voice yelling in my ear. “What the hell are you doing out here?”
Him.
Flashes of rueful smirks, angry taunts, and organized debauchery flashed through my mind. Him running into me, forcing my books to drop to the floor, my papers scattering across the hall. Him watching me…always watching. Him pulling Kristen Jones under his arm during lunch yesterday…while his gaze stayed glued to me.
“Let me go.” I pulled my arm back, seething at his presence, trying to talk my stomach out of the little flip flop routine it was doing at the fact that Jace had come.
Again.
He adjusted his squatting position to better cover us with the flapping tarp, shielding us from the rain. He kept one arm around my waist, causing my stomach to riot. I was at odds with my stupid hormones, especially after my monumental miscalculation regarding the fool.
Still, it didn’t change the fact that my face turned into a furnace every time he was close, and every evil smirk made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. It was even worse that every time he randomly appeared somewhere that I was, I mentally took it to mean we were destined to be together.
My abductor—or hero, however you wanted to look at it—made a sound of irritation from behind me as he pulled me closer to the corner.
“Let me go,” I repeated, trying to push at his arm, but at the touch of his hot skin against mine, I relented immediately. The part of my body that collected his attentive glances and smiles sagged into his chest and mentally screamed at him to hold me tighter. The other part that was angry and bitter at how horribly he’d treated me for the past two years demanded I push him away and pray he tripped down the ladder.
“I’ll let you go when you tell me what you’re doing out here,” he said against my ear, his hand flexing at my hip, causing my breath to hitch. I was so thankful he couldn’t see my face.
“It’s none of your business.” As if my love for storms could be easily explained to the boy who bullied me? As if I could share my wonder and awe for the sky and how detrimentally beautiful it was? My body came out here as if it was called, like the sky was a siren and I merely a lost pirate at sea. Jace would laugh, and then make fun of me for all eternity.
Then there was the little issue of being dumped by someone I’d never even met.
He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. I smiled for a second, thinking he’d be kind, but then he followed it with, “Stupid girl.”
Anger unfurled inside my chest, stretching and claiming all the places previously owned by those stupid butterflies.
“I’m not stupid—you’re stupid.” I elbowed him, trying to get some distance. Thankfully and regrettably, he let me go.
“Why do you always fight me on this? I told you not to come out here alone,” he yelled over the booming thunder, which was significantly closer now.
Why the heck was he so mad? Why did he care at all?
“I have been coming out here since long before you moved to town,” I yelled back, trying to shuffle into the corner, away from him. The white light bled in through the gaps in the tarp, followed by a crack of thunder directly over our heads.
“Shit! We need to get lower. This tower is the tallest thing around here—we’re sitting ducks.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me up and shoving me toward the ladder. “Climb down, stay close, and as soon as you can, get in that small doorway under the play structure.”
Terrified by his urgency and the fact that logic was slowly starting to seep in, I did as he said. I climbed down and ran as fast as my legs would carry me. Ducking into the small archway, I blinked against the darkness, the only light coming from the sky in flashes every few seconds.
Being the closest one to my house, this playground was the one I frequented the most. It was designed like a castle, with wooden towers standing at each corner of the structure, and it was perfect for stargazing. Unfortunately, however, Jace was right—it was pure suicide during a lightning storm.
A few seconds later, Jace barreled in, crowding me against the back wall. “We should be safe in here.” He eyed the pouring rain, which we were now shielded from.
I nodded, grabbing on to my knees, leaning back. We sat in silence for a few moments, just watching the flashes of light and cringing when the thunder boomed. Meanwhile, my mind slowly pu
lled at all the tiny pieces of tonight, like a fraying strand of string. Why is Jace out here? Why did he rescue me? Why does it seem like he cares?
The first time he’d come out, it had been a Friday night, nearly dusk. I was still reading with what daylight I had left, slowly swinging. He came over, tipped my chin up, and angrily told me he was walking me home and to never come out alone again. Thinking it was another one of his stupid tactics to bully me, I laughed in his face and went back the next week. Only, he was back that week too.
And so went every Friday night for the past six months. Even on game nights, he’d make his way to the park. He even once showed up at nearly midnight. He never spoke, but he did walk me home, every single time.
“So, you came out here to watch the storm?” Jace asked, his tone an olive branch, like he was trying to make polite conversation. I was instantly suspicious. He was sitting on his knees, making him taller than me.
I looked up, relishing the glint in his eyes. I always liked looking into his eyes. I tried to as often as possible, without him noticing.
“I like storms,” I quietly confessed.
“Well they don’t like you.” His tone was mocking. “You’d probably die if it weren’t for me.”
“I would have been fine. I’m not stupid or helpless,” I snapped, feeling frustrated by his presence. “Why are you out here anyway?”
He went from eyeing the storm to turning his calculating gaze on me. He stared; I stared back. Finally, he brought a hand to his forehead, letting out a small quivering sound…like he was tired. “I figured it would have been obvious by now.” Moving closer, he forced our bodies to touch. We were leg to leg, but I felt it everywhere.
I inhaled sharply as his warm breath fanned out on my ear.
He whispered, “It’s the same reason I accidentally trip into you in the halls, and the same reason I go to the library every Saturday and why I walk the two miles to the stupid park every Friday night.” His hand went to the wet hair that was sticking to the side of my face, the pad of his rough finger brushing it aside. “I’m a fool.”
Holding my breath, I watched as he leaned back, just enough to reveal his expression. His heavy gaze fluttered over my face, down to my lips, just as thunder boomed again.