Played

by Liz Fichera

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  She garbled something back that sounded like “sleigh” but it was probably “it’s okay.”

  After helping her, I unzipped my jeans and then shimmied them down and stripped them off my bent legs without kicking her in the face.

  Beside me, Riley shivered even more and I wondered if stripping was the right idea, especially as rain continued to fall. If there had been a more awful night, weather-wise, I hadn’t experienced it. This was like a bad horror movie.

  As we sat across from each other in our underwear, shivering in the dark, lightning lit up our hiding space. In the flash, I looked at Riley, and she looked back at me. In that instant I saw everything. She was so white she glowed. Her arms crossed to hide her chest. Most of all, I saw that she was as terrified as I was, and for that reason alone I could not look away.

  “There’s no reason to be embarrassed, Riley. Or scared. I’m as scared as you are.” I had to push off to the side of my brain that I had never been with a girl before, naked. Not like this, so close we were practically sharing the same heartbeat. I wondered if I should tell her that? Would it put her at ease?

  Instead, when it turned dark again, I reached for her shoulder. “Come here.”

  A few seconds later, as if she’d needed time to consider it, she crawled to me on her knees. She sat between my legs, facing me. I wrapped my arms around her and she wrapped her arms around me, at least as much as she could. We were chest-to-chest, skin touching skin. I tried not to think about the softness of her skin or the sweet scent of her hair. Instead, I counted backward from one hundred and forced myself to focus on survival. Staying alive. Global warming. Global cooling, more like.

  I rubbed her arms, her back. “Better?” My voice cracked.

  Her head nodded beneath my chin, fast. Nervous. I could hear each swallow. “You?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Much.”

  Her body froze again and so did mine.

  “It’s not like that, Riley. I promise.”

  “Okay,” she said, but her voice was still uneasy.

  “Let’s lie down.”

  She stiffened again in my arms but I pushed her backward, gently. I cradled her head by my right shoulder and then curled the rest of my body over hers, doing my best not to crush her. Her warm breath heated my neck as we lay on the ground. “Are you okay?”

  “Uh-huh,” she squeaked.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “Uh-uh.” Another soft squeak.

  “You’re lying.”

  She didn’t answer.

  I shifted a few inches, as much as I could in the cocoon that we’d made for ourselves. Pine needles poked every inch of my skin. Despite the branches for our makeshift bed, the ground was still rock-hard. I closed my eyes and did my best to relax. Did my best to picture being warm. I pictured a bright sun and a hot, sizzling desert—anything but the soft body beneath me. After a few silent, agonizing minutes, I said, “I know this sounds gross but it would be better if we burrowed underneath the pine needles.”

  Her hands squeezed my arms. “What about bugs? And spiders? I really hate spiders.”

  “It’s too cold for them,” I lied. We’d probably wake up covered in ant bites, but at least we wouldn’t freeze to death.

  “Okay,” she said with so much trust in her voice that I felt equal parts good and bad—good for keeping us warm but bad for telling lies. Suddenly I felt very responsible for this girl in my arms. Riley trusted me. She believed me. I did not want to disappoint her.

  We burrowed like animals, digging beneath the branches, covering ourselves in a blanket of mostly dry pine needles and moss. Then we lay back again, Riley curled into my chest and one of my legs curled around Riley. After a while, our breathing slowed, and there was warmth.

  The warmth turned into heat. Blessed heat. Body heat as thick as a blanket. Our shivering stopped and my breathing matched Riley’s, breath for breath. I felt her heartbeat against my chest.

  I looked up at the sky, breathing easier, but still trying to keep my mind focused on anything but the fact that I was holding a mostly naked girl in my arms and willing the rest of my body not to react. Rain still pattered against the trees and a few drops reached us, but a couple of stars poked through the clouds with the promise that the storm was breaking. Finally.

  “Riley?” My voice sounded loud.

  “Yeah?” she whispered.

  “I’ll play.”

  She gasped. Her chin rose to touch mine and I couldn’t help but smile. “You’ll tell me something personal?” She sounded doubtful at first. “Really, really personal?”

  “Yeah, why not?” I paused to swallow. “But you’ve got to swear you won’t tell anyone. Not a soul.”

  “I absolutely promise.” Her breath hitched.

  “Okay,” I said. “I trust you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I said again, hesitating all over again. Why had I opened my big mouth?

  “You can tell me, Sam,” she said with conviction. “I won’t tell anybody.”

  I sighed. Then I took a deep breath. Then another for some nerve. Another patch of black sky cleared above us. More stars twinkled through the tops of swaying treetops. I looked down at Riley and could see the vague curve of her chin, her nose, even the whites of her eyes twinkling in the starlight. She waited for me to speak, barely breathing.

  “Sam?” she prodded, lifting herself over my chest. “You’re killing me. What. Is. It?”

  My secret dislodged like a boulder from the top of a cliff. There was no taking it back. “I’m in love with your brother’s girlfriend,” I blurted.

  Riley gasped again but for a split second I didn’t care.

  It felt good to be rid of it.

  So I proceeded to tell Riley everything.

  15

  Riley

  Say. What? I raised myself higher on my elbow, knocking the top of my head against Sam’s chin.

  Okay, I was expecting Sam to fess up to hot-wiring a car or maybe even cheating on a final exam but lusting after my brother’s girlfriend, Fred Oday? No. Way. Was he crazy? Fred and Ryan were inseparable. He’d have a better chance dating Lady Gaga.

  “You’re in love with Fred Oday.” I didn’t say it like a question.

  “Yep.”

  “For how long?”

  “For forever.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Since we were in grade school.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.”

  “What do you love about her? I mean, aside from the obvious.” Fred was brilliant. She was also beautiful in an unconventional way. She was kind of like the exotic foreign exchange student who intrigued everyone without really trying. Throw in the fact that she could beat the butts off most of the guys on the varsity golf team and she became A-list material. I couldn’t blame my brother for loving her, too.

  “Everything,” Sam said with a sigh.

  He wasn’t making it easy. “You need to be more specific.”

  “She’s pretty.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “And she’s smart,” he added.

  “Well, duh.”

  Sam laughed. “That’s not good enough for you?”

  “No,” I said. “There must be something else, something you’re not telling me….”

  I felt him inhale deeply beside me. Then he said, “We want the same things.”

  “You play golf, too?”

  “No,” Sam said. “It has nothing to do with golf.”

  “Then, what?”

  Sam paused. “It’s where we’re from….”

  “Because you’re both Gila?”

  “No. Yes. I mean, no. We both have had to work so hard. We understand each other. It’s just that we both want…more. More for ourselves. More for our people.”

  “More, what?”

  “It’s kind of hard to explain, Riley.” Another heavy sigh. “You wouldn�
�t understand.”

  “Try me. We’ve got time.”

  His hand dropped against my back. “There’s not enough time to explain to you what I mean. You don’t live it. You wouldn’t get it. Trust me.”

  “I’m smarter than you think, you know.”

  “I never said you were dumb.”

  “No, you said I was thorough. Remember? This is me, living up to my nickname. I need more detail. Now tell me.”

  Sam chuckled, but it was the kind of nervous chuckle where I knew he wasn’t going to share anything more. His legs began to twitch as if they were covered in ants. Very un-Sam-Tracy-like. And, honestly? I was shocked he’d even told me what he had. In a weird way, I felt kind of privileged. Sam didn’t strike me as the kind of boy who went around sharing his secrets.

  “Tell me more about her, Sam. Tell me more about what you love about her?”

  “I haven’t said enough?”

  “Not even close.”

  He snickered. “Okay, then. Well, she laughs at my bad jokes. She’s kind to people. She’s patient—more patient than I’ll ever be. And she’s determined.” He paused. “I think I love that most of all.”

  After a silent moment, I said, “You know that getting her is impossible, don’t you?” I leaned back down from my elbow.

  Sam didn’t answer.

  “Ryan and Fred are so in love that it’s…it’s almost sickening.”

  Sam chuckled. “I know.”

  “I think they’re considering getting surgically sewn together.”

  Sam’s chest shook against mine.

  “And then I hear that they’re going to share the same brain.”

  “Stop it, Riley,” Sam said, laughing harder.

  “I’m just telling you. You’re asking for the tragically impossible.”

  “I didn’t say that I wanted to go out with her. I just told you that I loved her. That’s my really, really personal thing that you said you wanted to hear. That’s all.”

  “Yes, well. That’s…sad,” I said, forgetting for the moment that, except for the parts covered by my underwear, my naked skin was touching Sam Tracy, a boy who was in love with my brother’s girlfriend. How twisted was that?

  “That’s the way it is,” Sam said. “You can’t have everything.”

  “At least you understand.”

  “More than you know.” He sighed, and for a few seconds that turned into minutes, we said nothing and just listened to the rain drip-dropping through the branches that sheltered us.

  My eyelids grew heavy as my body stayed warm against Sam’s, even as I kept playing Sam’s secret in my mind. I couldn’t picture it—Fred and Sam? My brother without Fred? To say that it was impossible would be an understatement. There are some people who go together, like dark chocolate and sea salt. Would Sam really have a chance with Fred?

  Despite his love for Fred, right now I was glad that we were together. If I had to get stranded in a forest and Jake Gyllenhaal wasn’t available, I was glad I was with Sam Tracy. In fact, forget Jake. I’d definitely choose Sam. He’d scaled down a mountain for me. He hadn’t left me alone. He was keeping me warm. He was keeping me alive. And he’d told me his deepest, darkest secret.

  “Let’s try to get some sleep,” Sam said. “We’ll need our strength for tomorrow if we plan to hike out of here.”

  I yawned. “You don’t want to talk anymore?” I needed to do something to get my mind off what could be crawling around and over the pine needles and dirt that were doing a decent job of keeping the cold away. Just as Sam had said they would. “No more secrets?”

  “That wasn’t juicy enough for you?”

  “Good point.”

  “I’m tired.” Sam yawned.

  I sighed. “Okay, you win. I’ll shut up.”

  So I rested my head on Sam’s smooth chest, listening as his breathing slowed. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. That’s when I realized it had stopped raining. There was still a tiny rumble of thunder, but it sounded miles away.

  “Sam?” I whispered. I wanted to tell him that the rain had finally stopped, the storm had passed, but he didn’t answer.

  And then I began to dream crazy dreams.

  16

  Sam

  Wrapped around Riley, I didn’t sleep a solitary second the entire night, but she did.

  Riley talked in her sleep, too. She said nothing that I could understand, but at least it helped the night to pass. It was like trying to figure out Latin or something. One time she even giggled. Martin and Peter were never going to believe this. They were going to give me grief for being Mr. Gentleman. “Why didn’t you at least kiss her,” Martin would probably say. “Or at least brush her breast while your hand was in the general area?”

  Truth was, I was scared out of my mind, not that I would ever tell anybody that, least of all Riley. Not even as part of her silly, girly, tell-me-something-really-really-personal game. And, jeez. Why did I have to crack and tell her about Fred? What was the point, anyway? It wasn’t as if I had a chance with Fred Oday. I had a better chance of sprouting wings and flying off the side of this mountain.

  Two big raindrops plopped square in each of my eyes. I blinked them off. Was it starting to rain again? I rubbed my eyes with my left hand. My right arm had fallen asleep hours ago beneath Riley’s head, still cradled against my right shoulder.

  Birds began to chirp.

  “What’s wrong?” Riley’s voice was scratchy with sleep. She raised her head and I relished the few seconds to clench my fist and squeeze blood back into my arm’s veins.

  “Nothing,” I said, my voice equally raspy. My entire body—at least, the parts that weren’t numb—ached from stiffness and cold.

  Her head lowered just as a trickle of yellow hazy light made its way through the pine branches, some still heavy with rain.

  I sat up, knocking Riley awake again in the process. “It’s morning,” I mumbled. Finally. The sun was rising. I’d thought daylight would never get here.

  Riley raised up on one elbow and we locked eyes. We could see each other again, not just the whites of our eyes or the dim outlines of our bodies, but everything. Shock then horror spread through Riley’s expression as she stared back at me. It was like we were both too mortified to allow our gazes to drift anywhere below our shoulder blades.

  I noticed streaks of dirt on her cheeks where dust had mixed with dried tears. Slowly, her gaze traveled down my face to my chest, her eyes widening as if she were just realizing that she’d spent the night sleeping next to me. I tried to keep my eyes locked on her face but I wanted to look at her. Even in the dim light, I wanted to see everything again.

  I swallowed and then looked up to keep my mind from going where it shouldn’t. I counted backward from ten in my head. The light filtering through the branches changed from a gray yellow to a burning orange, turning the tips of the pine needles a reddish green. “It’s morning,” I said again, stupidly, as if it weren’t painfully obvious.

  “Yes,” Riley said. “Finally.”

  In the distance, we heard a new sound. Our heads tilted, trying to focus on it, our gazes turned upward.

  “Is that more thunder?”

  I kicked off the dirt and needles and jumped to my feet, smacking my head on the lower branches and knocking off raindrops in the process. “That’s not thunder,” I said, grabbing Riley’s pink sweatshirt from the branch where it had hung all night. “That’s a helicopter.”

  In my boxers and bare feet, I burst from beneath the pine tree, looking for a patch of flat surface, someplace where I had an unobstructed view of the sky. I didn’t have time to worry about the cold air that gripped my body.

  “Hey,” I shouted at the sky, white puffs of my breath floating in front of my face. Like a madman, I waved Riley’s still-damp pink sweatshirt over my head. I shook it over my head like a flag, back and forth. Back and forth. “We’re here!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “We’re down here!” I ran around the ledge, waving the
sweatshirt at the helicopter away from the patch of pine trees.

  Beside me, I heard Riley. “We’re here! Help us!” Riley was jumping on one foot, waving her pink baseball cap in one hand, her jeans in the other.

  I turned to her. Her pale skin was covered with dirt. Pine needles and more dirt clung to her hair. I smiled. She smiled, too, flashing her teeth, the only white left on her entire body.

  Together we screamed at the top of our lungs, waving clothing, waving our arms. Dancing in our underwear. We must have made quite a sight.

  The helicopter’s rumble got closer, so close it was almost on top of us. But we kept waving our arms, our clothes. My throat burned from screaming.

  The skyscraper pine trees swayed from the force of the propellers. It was like it was storming all over again, except this time pine needles rained down on us in the early morning sun. We had to shield our eyes from blowing dust and dirt.

  “They see us!” Riley shouted. “They see us! I’m sure of it.”

  “I’m glad pink is your favorite color!” I shouted back at her, still squinting up at the helicopter, afraid that if I blinked it would fly away. But through the blowing dirt and dust, I could see the open door on the side of the helicopter. A man in an orange vest waved down at us. I think he flashed the thumbs-up sign.

  At the same time, Riley and I turned to each other. She screamed and so did I. Then, hopping on one foot, she jumped into my arms and I rocked back with surprise and relief. I hugged her tightly, my arms wrapped around her body, skin against skin, laughing and fighting back tears.

  “You did it!” Riley yelled. “You saved us, Sam!”

  I twirled her in a circle as she laughed, warm breath against my ear, her body pressed against mine. I felt like the strongest guy in the world. “No. We did it!”

  And then I did something I hadn’t planned. Still holding her in my arms, my chest pressed against hers, I kissed Riley Berenger.

  And she kissed me back. Not a peck. A long one that got my heart racing as fast as the helicopter propeller. The kind of kiss that might mean something.

  For a split second, the world stopped spinning. The trees froze all around us. Colors blended together. The air turned sticky hot. All I could feel, all I could see, all I could taste, was Riley Berenger’s warm lips smashed against mine.