“Yes, both.” I really meant to say no to him stopping. This is ridiculous. I pause, picking at a loose thread in my beach towel. Should I bring up the kiss? There’s never going to be a textbook moment to handle this kind of conversation. He means too much to me to drag this out or sweep it under the rug. I just can’t. Change is good, but in this particular situation, I am happy with consistency.
“Hey.” He touches my arm with his finger. “What are you thinking about?” I look up and smile weakly. Reluctant to start the dialogue, I need some kind of resolution, confirmation that our friendship will not change, that it will remain intact because I need him in that way. Not only that, but I need to keep my own feelings in check.
“We can’t keep avoiding this,” I whisper, twisting my hair, digging my toes in the sand and feeling the heat of the sun on my body. I instantly feel overwhelmed and tense. This is not what I wanted.
“Avoiding what?” He tilts his head to the side gazing at me, realizing what I’m referring to. “Oh.” He pulls away, stretching his legs out in front of him and wiping the rest of the lotion on his chest. “Listen.” He pauses, raking his hand through his hair. “We both slipped. It was like... like...,” he stammers, an endearing smile passes his lips, “a dream, just good dreams... a figment of your imagination.” Nothing about those kisses was a dream. He knows that. He just doesn’t want to cause any problems with Reed and me. That’s another story. What will I tell Reed and do I even have to?
I stare at him, noticing the tenderness and hurt in his eyes. He didn’t come between anything with Cane, and now with Reed because Tyler knows his role in my life. He’s always on the sideline, ready to rescue me. I slide closer to him and gingerly push the damp hair away from his face.
“I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing I want to do; you know that. It was selfish and I’m sorry.” He smiles, gently stroking the palm of my hand. Even though I’ve been having these thoughts about him, I know this is the best thing. I can’t give up what we have and jeopardize our friendship. What if I let it happen, and things don’t work out between us? Everything would change, and I would never have my Tyler the way I have him now.
“Don’t worry about me. The chubby guy in the diaper just has other plans for me.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m cool with that. I’m in no rush. Someday, I’ll find that perfect girl.” He smiles and swiftly rises to his feet, extending his hand to me. “Come on, let’s go in the water. No more serious talk.” He cocks his head and smiles brilliantly. Seriously, how can I say no to that smile?
“Deal.” I take his hand and he gently pulls me up, throwing his arm over my shoulder as we walk to the water. I can’t help but think he wanted to say more, but for now, his words appease me. We can move on like it used to be, sort of.
When I wake up, Tyler’s paying the toll on Tobin Bridge, which means I dozed off for the whole ride. He throws the change on the seat next to me and turns on the radio.
“Thanks bud, for waking me up.” I groan, stretching out my legs. I turn, barely able to open my eyes but can make out his smile.
“No prob.” He smirks devilishly, patting me on the thigh.
“Whateves,” I reply, messing up his hair. He smiles and pins his eyes back on the road.
“Hey! No more.” Tyler pops out my CD. I playfully slap his hand and pop it back in.
“Why’d you go and do that?”
“Oh come on, Elle.” He groans. “Do we have to listen to Lifehouse again? Just go back to sleep.”
“I’m not tired.” I reluctantly sit up and roll down the window, letting the air float in. All the fumes and exhaust from rush hour are thick, stagnant and choking the life out of me. Coming back to this is depressing since we just spent the whole day away from all the noise, chaos, and just life in general. It’s as if I left a Technicolor, 3D movie with vibrant colors and returned to an old black and white silent movie. Today was simple. No outside complications, only the ones lingering in my mind.
Scanning the Boston Skyline, I watch boats scattered in Boston Harbor slowly maneuver through the water. A plane hovers above waiting to land at Logan Airport, which is where I will reunite with Reed when he comes back to me tomorrow. Thinking about it brings a smile to my face, intense emotions come to the surface, and the anticipation is unbearable.
“Here.” Tyler hands me a bottle of cold water. “You must be thirsty.”
“Thanks.” I smile and rest my head against the seat. “Sorry I was such a boring passenger,” I say, taking a long drink of water.
“I wouldn’t say that.” He smiles as his eyes travel up my body, slowly returning his attention to the road.
“Pig.” I pipe, punching his arm as we stop at a red light.
“What are you calling me that for?” He chuckles, rubbing his arm. “I was going to tell you how adorable you look when you’re sleeping and what a naughty girl you are for thinking otherwise.” He smiles, adorably shaking his finger at me.
“Just get me home in one piece!”
“I would never let anything happen to you, dahling.” He smiles, throwing his hand over the back of my seat as he hits the gas laughing.
We pull in my driveway and Tyler puts the car in park. As he kills the engine, he turns to me with a wry grin. I eye him suspiciously before he jumps out, grabs my bag from the back seat, and runs around the front of the car to open my door, dramatically reaching for my hand to help me out.
“You don’t have to go through all this trouble, ya know.” I joke, stretching for a couple of minutes.
“Just enjoy it while it lasts.” He smirks, grabbing my hand as we walk to the front door. “Looks like nobody’s home.” He lets go of my hand, finds the house key under the potted plant, and unlocks the door to let me in. “After you,” he says with a weird British accent. I giggle, shaking my head at him.
I flip on the small lamp in the hallway. The clock says eight PM. I know it’s Friday, but usually Mom or Jace would be here. My cell was off all day, so maybe I missed a call. When I power it up, there’s nothing from my mom or Jace. The last call and text message was from Reed. And the countdown begins in my head again, less than twenty-four hours.
Tyler turns on the TV and makes himself comfortable on the couch while I grab a bag of chips from the kitchen. I could use a nap after the long day at the beach, but relaxing with Tyler for a little bit sounds more appealing to me. He flicks his eyes to me when I plop down next to him. I open the bag of chips and pop one in my mouth.
“Want one?” I ask between chews.
“What kind?”
“Baked Lays.”
“So vanilla. How do you eat that stuff? It tastes like cardboard.”
“Low calories. Got to watch the figure.”
“Well, if you put it that way,” he smirks, throwing his eyes up and down my body, “you’re good.”
“Thanks.” I elbow him playfully and turn to the TV.
“Here,” he says, handing me the remote. “This is your castle. I’m just a servant.” He laughs, leaning his head back on the couch while throwing his long tanned legs on the table.
“Wow, I have been given complete control.” I smirk, putting the chips down while I flip through the channels. After a couple of minutes, I give up. “There’s nothing on TV.” I groan, turning it off. I peek over and see that Tyler’s breathing has relaxed. Wondering if he fell asleep, I watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest underneath his crossed arms, and admire how handsome my best friend is.
“Elle?” he whispers, peeking at me with one eye, looking adorable and sweet.
“Yeah?” I answer, winding a strand of hair around my fingers.
“Remember when we were kids and we would hang out here like this all the time?” He murmurs placing his arm over my shoulder and pulling me close to him. His body is still warm from the summer sun, and the scent of the ocean lingers on his skin. I lay my head on his chest and close my eyes, listening to his familiar voice. “How your mom and dad used to
come in and check on us all the time. They’ve always been Nervous Nellies.” He chuckles, rubbing my shoulder affectionately.
“Well, you freaked them out. We were only eleven, and you were always telling my mom how beautiful I was and that you were going to marry me.” I laugh, lifting my head to look at him. “Such a sap.” I giggle.
“Whatever. That’s your fault. There was nothing not to love about you. Even now.” He looks down at me, shifting his body underneath me. “I remember the exact moment,” he whispers.
“Exact moment? What?” I feel my eyes water, his breathing soft but intense against me. I’m hyperaware of how close his body is to mine, his side pressing against me. The only sound is my heart pounding in my ears.
“That I knew I loved you.” He breathes gripping me closer. I swallow hard but don’t move, trying to stay composed. This is just a memory, reminiscing about our childhood, and nothing about our lives now. There’s no need to get all bent out of shape. He knows where we stand; he wants our friendship intact as much as I do.
“Was it when I made your favorite chocolate cookies or apple pie when you lost one of your little league games that you dragged me to all the time?” I look up at him and smile through my lashes. He looks at me wistfully. “I was such a little Betty Crocker back in those days or was it Sara Lee, always trying to be Miss Homemaker like your mom.” His body tenses instantly at the mention of his mom.
“I’m sorry.” I sigh, smiling encouragingly, hoping that this wasn’t hurting him.
“No.” He looks adoringly down at me. “It’s okay. It’s no shock hearing about her. I think about her every day.” He clears his throat, leaning his head back against the couch. “I miss her.”
“I miss her, too,” I whisper, holding his hand, sitting in silence for a couple of minutes wondering what life would be like if Tyler’s mom was still here. She was patient and loving with everything she did and always had a smile on her face even when she was diagnosed with cancer. She smiled through it all.
“But getting back to your baking skills, your apple pies sucked!” He laughs. “Definitely no Sara Lee. And if I remember correctly, you burned those cookies, too! So, no Betty Crocker either!” I sense that he’s looking down at me by the way he moves his body, and I close my eyes. He traces small circles on my arm, and I cuddle closer to him, sensing that sleep is not too far behind. “You loved being my cheerleader; you were my good luck charm.”
“Yeah, baking wasn’t my thing; and yes, I did get a little carried away with the rah-rah-rah stuff, but you loved it.” I smile, thinking about Pop calling me his good luck charm, too. I rest my head against his chest feeling each breath he takes. Tyler’s here like he’s always been for me. The thought of ever losing what I have with him would devastate to me. I know it and feel it and it scares me.
“Hey,” he murmurs. His voice is soothing and pure. I raise my eyes to look at him. He pushes my hair aside cupping my face; his expression is content and endearing.
“Tyler,” I whisper, placing my hand on his chest as his heart’s pounding along with mine. My chest clenches, the familiar feeling of him is comforting, but this foreign feeling that has been creeping up again and again lately is making me uneasy.
“Relax; I just want to look at you. I never get to look at you like this without having to be all stealth about it,” he says biting his lip; my whole being just melts. “Reed is lucky,” he whispers, grinning softly. “I’m not the jealous type, but I feel like he took my spot in line.”
“You’re wrong, yet again.” I sigh deeply, feeling the long pull of air in my chest stabs me. “You’re in a league all your own. Untouchable. You know that. I don’t expect everyone to understand it; they’re just going to have to deal with it.”
“Good,” he responds, crooking a brow. He takes my face in his hands, “Don’t be nervous... just friends.” He smirks playfully. I believe him and before I can react, he brushes his lips across mine. Jace and Cane burst through front door, snapping on the lights right as he pulls away from me.
I drive two and a half hours back to Texas A&M. Being back on the quad is amazing. Everyone still recognizes me from my football days. It’s been over a year, and I miss being the big man on campus. Life here was simple for a while, and then I complicated everything by getting involved with the wrong people. I’m good at that. I’m stubborn like Momma and don’t listen to reason. I had no choice though, and I don’t regret my decision one bit. Momma’s still here to see another day and that’s all that matters to me. I sprint across the quad to the athletic facility to meet with Doc Jones, not feeling a lick of pain in my knee. I grin like I just cleaned up at the blackjack table.
“What’s up, Doc?” I chuckle, leaning against the exam table. He looks the same. His silver hair is short, and he’s grown a beard. I know his first wife didn’t like facial hair, so he must have a new lady friend, or maybe he’s single. He’s wearing a white button down dress shirt with a blue and white striped tie and blue jeans under his white lab coat with some shiny new cowboy boots.
“Someone’s in a positive mood today.” He walks over and shakes my hand. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen ya boy. How are things up North?”
“So far so good.”
“Good to know because I hear the people in Boston are some unfriendly folks.” He slaps me on the shoulder and laughs, adjusting the glasses on his nose.
“Depends on who you meet, Doc. I know a good group of people.” I smile, thinking of Elle and getting back to her.
“That’s good. Friends are hard to come by these days.” He pauses and smiles. “Why don’t you sit up on the table, and I’ll check out your knee while we wait for the x-rays to come back.” He pulls up the leg of my jeans and gently squeezes my knee then taps it lightly with his closed fist. “How’s it feeling now? Any pain?” He looks up from his glasses, waiting for my answer.
“Good. No pain for two weeks. I think I may be over the hump. I hope so, anyway.”
“You’ve been keeping up with your therapy, running and weights?” He peeks at me from under his glasses.
“You bet, Doc.” I answer, watching him flip his chart and jot down some notes. I still get nervous every time he does that because the last memory of it was when a stretcher carried me off the field. That one time in my life, I wish that I wasn’t so stubborn and had listened to the coach.
“Where’s Coach these days?” I ask, as his assistant walks in with the room and hands him the envelope that contains my x-rays. My heart pushes up my throat and my hands grow sweaty.
“He’s around today. You should go visit him. I’m sure he’d love to see ya. Be a nice surprise for him.” He grins.
“I think I might do that,” I reply, watching as he unseals the envelope, carefully pulling out each slide, and placing them on the screen. He flicks the switch and ghostly images of my precious knee appear. He points at the slides and takes notes on the clipboard, turning to me with an encouraging smile.
“It looks completely healed. There’s a little inflammation but nothing to worry about,” he says, returning to scrutinize the films one last time. “Just wrap it once in awhile. I don’t see why you can’t do what you used to do.” He smiles, knowing how much I love football.
“Thanks, Doc.” I hop up from the table and shake his hand. The smile that spreads across my face hurts because I’m so damn happy.
“I know that look, Landon. What’s your plan?” He raises his eyebrows resting his hand on my shoulder.
Only certain people still call me Landon, and Doc’s one of them. He says I don’t look like a Reed, so I accommodate his minor request; it’s a small price to pay to keep Doc happy. I trust him one hundred percent. He’s been with me since day one of my career, and he knows my legs are my way out of my rough existence. He also knows it’s my passion, what I’m supposed to be doing.
“You know I always have something up my sleeve. You’ll just have to wait and see.” I grin, anxious to visit with Coach.
I step into his office and loudly clear my throat, standing with my arms crossed behind my back. He spins in his chair to face me, dropping the playbook on the floor.
“Looky what we have here!” He says in disbelief, coming around his desk.
Coach gives me a big bear hug, slapping me several times on my back. He’s about six feet tall and has fifty pounds on me that seemed to have settled around his waist, and I swear to God he just cracked a rib.
“Good to see you, Coach.” I chuckle, pulling away from his tight grip.
“What brings you by?” He pipes grinning from ear to ear. His black hair has some silver in it now, and he’s got the same pale skin. He always used to say tanning was for women. “I thought you were up North now. Where’d you say? New York, Washington, one of those crazy cities?”
“No, Boston.”
“Boston. Why’d you pick that place? I heard there are some mean people out in those parts.”
“Nah, you got to see for yourself. Good folks.” I laugh like I haven’t heard that before.
“So, what you saying, boy? You’re not coming back to Texas?” He asks, motioning for me to sit down. I take a seat facing his desk, leaning back in the chair crossing my leg over my knee.
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