by S. J. Sylvis
Not seeing Rowen during all the breaks this year was difficult. In the midst of dealing with Stalker Mark, I was still trying to decipher my feelings for Rowen and was overwhelmed by the want and need to just peek in on him. I have no idea how our paths didn’t cross when I was home, and I have no idea how I was able to keep it together at school and not use Alicia’s social media to creep on him, but I did. Maybe it was the grace of God.
“Look at that tan!” My mom beams as soon as I park my car in the driveway and climb out. It’s not nearly as hot here as it was in Haiti. The classrooms were outside underneath a small shaded area, which really didn’t help the heat much. Half the time I was pushed outside of the shade so the children could be covered—they deserved to learn in a shaded area, especially give their housing conditions.
My mom hugs me tightly and she looks exactly same as when I saw her over Christmas break. Still beautiful and vibrant, with her brown hair cut into a bob. As I’m hugging her and soaking in her motherly love, my dad is leaning against the doorway with a smile on his face.
“Hey, Daddy!”
“Tell me all about it!” he says as he whisks me inside the door, grabbing my things from me.
That night, we literally spend all of our time talking about Haiti and my teaching experience there, which he loves to hear about it since he is a teacher, too. I know, it’s seems cliché to follow in my dad’s footsteps but I really do enjoy teaching. Just like he and my mom said I would. They said I have the “teaching gene,” whatever the heck that is.
We laughed all night, especially at my rendition of the song the Haitians sang for us as we departed from the village. My parents ‘ooh’ and ‘awed’ at all my pictures that I’d taken on my phone. I already missed Haiti, I probably could have stayed there the entire summer, especially if that meant avoiding Rowen. My throat constricts at the thought of returning to work tomorrow as I toss and turn under my covers. You would think that I would be exhausted from my time in Haiti and traveling back home but nope, I can’t seem to shut my brain off. I think I finally fall asleep to a little “Rowen chant” that I made up in a desperate measure to stop obsessing over the next day.
It’s my first day back at the country club, but it’s been open for almost three weeks now, which means everyone is probably in the groove and wondering where I am… especially Rowen. I can’t help the series of gymnastic flips that occurs in my stomach as I replay all the different scenarios in my head. He probably thinks that I don’t forgive him and that I would rather stick a needle in my eye than be his friend, which isn’t true, not at all. I thought about contacting him a few times and letting him know I’d be coming back to work and that I’d be late, but I ended up chickening out every time. It shouldn’t matter this much… right?
After giving myself a pep-talk about becoming Rowen’s friend and no longer an enemy, or worse yet, his girlfriend, I climb out of my car and head into the Country Club with a nervous pit in my stomach. I’m so nervous that I can feel my hands trembling. I’m first greeted by Sash, who all but tackles me in a hug. A little put off at first, I struggle out of his arms and he eyes me cautiously.
“Sorry, we just missed you.” My eyebrows crinkle and I laugh a little. I didn’t realize I was so beloved here.
“I missed you guys, too. I hope no one drowned while I was in Haiti,” I joke back and then freeze in my spot when I hear his smooth voice. My heart picks up its pace and I take in a big gulp of air.
“Haiti? You were in Haiti?” I turn around slowly and take in the beautiful male standing behind me. Rowen’s face is tanned and even more sculpted than last summer, which causes me to curse the angels who created him because holy shit, he is beautiful.
“Yeah, I was over there for an internship. No one told you?” He looked right into my eyes and shook his head.
“Oh, yeah. Well, I’m back now for the summer.” Things are getting awkward as I stand between Sash, who welcomed me back like the hero that I am, and Rowen, who is looking at me like the little kid in that one movie where he sees all the ghosts.
Sash clasps his hands and smirks at the pair of us, “Okay, well, not to break up this interesting welcome-back charade, but you two need to get to your stands.”
I hurriedly go to the lockers and shove my things inside as I pull my long brown locks into a high ponytail. I can feel Rowen’s stare but I don’t dare answer it. Things are weird, and I’m much more nervous that I thought I’d be. You would think after all the nerve-wracking things that I’ve been through that I’d be a pro by now, but nope. Nada. Not even a little bit.
“Will you wait for me after your shift?” he asks, raising his eyebrows, eyeing my scar for a brief second.
“Well, I assumed you’d be waiting for me, again. Just like you did last year,” I say timidly and cross my arms.
“That’s only if you want me to… ” He averts his deep brown eyes when he says this, like he’s the shy one now. Ah, how the roles have changed.
“I do.” I say as I brush past him. I swear, I could hear his held breath release as I walk to my stand, welcoming the shining sun.
Thirteen
My first shift back this summer was a breeze—barely anyone was there. No bratty kids splashing one another, no tiny kids almost drowning… pretty uneventful except for the stolen stares that I got in on Rowen. I never caught his eye, thankfully, because that would be embarrassing, but I got that lingering feeling that someone was watching me; I couldn’t help but think it was him.
I didn’t recognize any of the workers this year and I’ll be glad when I have a shift with Morgan next week. We did meet up a few times over the year, but since she was in a completely different section of campus, it was hard to come by her; plus, she was known for going to all the frat parties. Surprise, surprise!
When I gather my things and walk out the familiar, hot, iron gates… Rowen is leaning on my car with his red swimming trunks and white work t-shirt on. I have to give myself a five second pep-talk on my walk over to him. Friends, be a friend. Nothing more, nothing less. Stop staring at his bulging muscles, stop it!
“Hey,” I whisper. The nerves are eating me up inside. This is a much different encounter than when we first saw each other, last summer. Then I could hide behind my anger and hurt but now, I have nothing to hide behind. It’s just him and I, in the open parking lot.
“So, does this mean you forgive me?” He straightens his posture as if he’s preparing for a punch. I stare at his chest for a few seconds before allowing my gaze to level on his but I wish I hadn’t. Even if I was going to say I didn’t forgive him, this moment, this hold his presence has on me, would completely throw me off… It’s… fresh, raw, and energetic, all at the same time.
“I guess it does… ” I answer and can’t help the small grin playing at my lips.
“I didn’t think you were coming back… I—” He stops talking for a beat and fidgets with his whistle hanging low beneath his neck. “I didn’t think you wanted to be my friend this summer… but I’m sure as hell glad you’re back.” He steps towards me like he wants a hug, and I can feel my eyes form into saucers. Touching is out of the question!
I back away as I put my hands up. “Under a few conditions, that is.” He stops in his tracks and his expression falls as he tilts his head, raising his right eyebrow. “We are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. No touching, and no flirting.” I narrow my eyes as I say the word “flirting.” I literally will not be able to handle it. There are way too many memories involved with him to be acting like that. If he touches me, I’m half afraid my body will permanently marked and it’ll mock me and my unsettled feelings for him. It can’t happen.
“Okay,” he says, softly. I take the hurt in his eyes and pocket it away.
“I feel like this might be a bad idea… ” I’m almost surprised at the words flowing out of my mouth; it apparently has a mind of its own today.
“Oh, it’s definitely a bad idea.” He smiles that panty-dropping smile at
me, and I can’t help but smile back. “But I like bad ideas.” My eyes form into little slits as I’m reminded of the first time we met, when he said those exact same words to me.
We were juniors at Clayton High School and we had just lost our rival football game against Eastwick. The student section was absolutely crazy, jumping, pounding their chests, some people in tears. Samantha and I were just about to leave when Kyle announced that he had a “fantastic idea.” Half of my peers were already on their way out of the game, still throwing curse words out to the other team, but Samantha begged me to stay and listen to what Kyle had to say. I thought, at the time, that she had a crush on him but really, she probably only had her eyes set on Rowen.
Kyle announced quietly that he wanted to toilet paper the other team’s bus before they headed back home. It was a stupid idea, but Samantha, once again, begged me to help him and the few other guys that were in tune on his plan… one of them being Rowen.
There was five of us: Kyle, Rowen, Jake, Reed, Samantha, and then me. I was no doubt bored with the situation and I just knew it wouldn’t work, but they all pleaded with me to come anyway.
“Where are we going to get a massive amount of toilet paper in the next ten minutes?” I asked Kyle who was the alpha leader of the pack.
“Just follow me, and be incognito,” he said, and I laughed out loud when he started to tiptoe behind the dumpsters leading to the parking lot. There’s just something about a tall lanky boy tiptoeing that was hilarious. He looked like a ballerina. When we arrived at his maroon-colored Camry, I looked around, wondering where the toilet paper gods were. That’s when he popped the trunk on his car, and that’s the moment my jaw hit the floor. Samantha stifled a laugh as he reached in and pulled out an enormous amount of white, fluffy toilet paper. By now, most of the fans had gone home and the taillights were dimming as they reached the main road. Kyle passed us all some toilet paper and he quietly led us (once again, tiptoeing) to the other team’s bus. I trailed behind the group as Samantha raced up to be in front with Kyle. They were both born to be leaders.
“Not much into toilet papering?” I glanced over at the boy talking to me, and my heart fluttered. It was Rowen, the new kid. We didn’t have any classes together and I only briefly saw him during lunch sometimes, but now that I saw him up close, I was at a loss for words. He was attractive and unlike any of the boys I was used to at Clayton High. It was hard to find an interest in any of them, as we had been going to school together since kindergarten. We all had to go through the awkward pre-teen stage together, and let’s just say, it wasn’t very nice to me.
I shrugged my shoulders as Rowen gave me that grin, the one that still affects me today. “I guess I just don’t see the point in it,” I said matter-of-factly, and he shook his head as we quietly walked behind everyone else. There were a few seconds of awkward silence until we came up onto the giant yellow school bus parked outside the locker rooms. Kyle briefly gave us the rundown of his plan, which was more or less just him telling us to toss the toilet paper onto the bus and then run away to the bushes so we could see the players’ reactions. I scoffed when he counted down from three. Everyone was in their low, hunched state as Rowen and I stood back, both laughing at how serious they all were.
When I looked over at him, he was staring directly at me—then he dipped his eyes down my body and back up to my face. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks and I quickly turned my head.
“You’re kind of cute when you blush,” he said, and my heart flipped several times while my eyes widened to the widest they’d ever been.
“I am not,” I said, although inside I was swatting away the butterflies swarming around. You know that scene in the wizard movie, where the keys have wings and they’re flying around rapidly? That was exactly what my stomach was doing.
“You are.”
I didn’t say anything as I looked up at him again. He grinned, and just like that, I was swooning. I didn’t think I was one of those girls who believed in love at first sight… until that moment.
“You ready?” He nodded towards everyone else throwing their rolls of toilet paper onto the bus. My heart started to beat wildly in my chest; I couldn’t decide if it was because of Rowen or the fact that I was doing something completely reckless and out of character.
“I don’t know… I think this is a bad idea,” I whispered, as I heard yelling from the locker rooms.
“That’s okay, I like bad ideas,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the bus. I smiled at our interlocked hands and began throwing toilet paper all around the bus. As uncoordinated as I am, mine didn’t even hit the bus but it was fun, nonetheless. Rowen cracked up at my attempts and then we rushed into the scratchy buses, still holding hands. That was the first time I came into physical contact with Rowen, and it definitely wasn’t the last.
Fourteen
You know that moment when your parents look at you with utter disappointment, only to mask their feelings of uncertainty and fear—that’s exactly what I walked into when my parents caught wind of Rowen and I becoming friends. I hadn’t planned on telling them, but in this small town it’s hard to keep a secret like that. I’m pretty sure there is a giant yellow spotlight following Rowen and I around. Maybe even someone hiding in the lush green bushes, writing about our every single encounter… which can’t be much, since I have avoided him like the plague. Until now.
It’s not that I don’t want to be his friend, because I obviously made that very clear by coming back to work at the club this summer but, every time I’m in his proximity, I have to argue with myself over buried feelings; I know they’re just feelings left over from our little love stint two years ago, and I’m more infatuated with the old Rowen, the one before the attack and the one that is two years younger. This new Rowen… he’s not the same. I have to stop comparing him to the old Rowen. Stop comparing the way he still makes me laugh, and still steals small smiles from me, and I absolutely, most definitely, have to stop thinking about the attack and what happened afterwards. It’s like my mind is ready to move past it and become this new rendition of the word “friend,” but my heart isn’t. It’s just still stuck, in the same spot, beating for a boy who no longer exists.
“We’re just friends. Just trying to be cordial with each other. We’ve both moved on, it’s fine. Really.” I say this to my parents although that tiny voice in the back of my head is shouting “liar” at me, over and over again. I roll my eyes at that stupid, unreasonable voice every chance I get.
They don’t look convinced. My dad has his hand perched under his chin with a knowing scowl, and my mom just looks plain concerned. They remember the heartache that I had two years ago, and I get it. I get that they’re afraid, but they shouldn’t be, because Rowen and I—we’re nothing and we won’t be anything, especially after I win this marathon battle with my heart.
“I think he has more on his mind than being your friend, Sadie,” my dad grumbles as he fiddles with his eggs. I frown and cross my arms like a five-year-old.
“Dad, I’m not the same girl I used to be. If Rowen has other plans than just being friends, which I definitely don’t think he does, then he will be disappointed.” He nods his head slowly, but his eyes show every single worrisome thought. I huff as I lean back and focus on my breakfast instead of the disastrous idea of Rowen and I becoming friends.
“So, what do two exes who are now trying to be friends, without touching, of course, do for fun?” Rowen saunters up to me during our last break at work. It’s been a week since we’ve declared friendship and we’ve only had small talk here and there—talking about college, my new apartment, the internship in Haiti… the easy stuff that comes naturally. When he asks to more or less hang out, I have to get my feelings in order and calm my trembling hands. I don’t know why the idea of hanging out with him makes me so damn nervous, except for the fact that my subconscious is giggling in the background, knowing exactly why I’m afraid.
“I’m not really sure. We
could go to the festival or something… ya know, surrounded by a lot of people.”
He quips, “And a lot of staring.” My shoulders slump. He’s right. Everyone will be staring, judging, wondering, gossiping… all of the above, but I’ve learned that if you don’t face the scary stuff head on, it’ll only weigh you down.
“Sadie? Your phone keeps vibrating, like, every three seconds.” I look over at Morgan who is standing in the employee doorway holding my phone.
I get up and slowly walk over to it, hoping that Rowen isn’t staring at my exposed butt, because nothing really changed in my body figure in the last year; my butt still hangs out of my bathing suit. We should really work on changing these.
When I look down at my phone, I roll my eyes and grab at my hair. It’s Mark. Again. For the five hundredth time since I’ve landed in the states. It’s like he had it set in his schedule when I was coming back; he texted me the moment I landed in Raleigh, and I’ve ignored just about every single text or call from him. We broke up—if you can even consider it enough of a relationship to require a breakup. It was months ago, but he can’t seem to get a hint. Showing up at my dorm room, following me around to my classes, even meeting me at the library when I hadn’t asked him to. He. Will. Not. Get. A. Hint.