Changing Forever (Rains Standalone)

by Lisa De Jong

  Looking away, I try hard to squash the regret I suddenly feel. I gave him more, so much more than I’ve given anyone, and he doesn’t want to share anything about himself. I passed the ball to him, and he doesn’t want to run with it. I guess I thought if he told me something, we’d be forever bound by our secrets.

  He runs the back of his fingers against my cheek, bringing my attention back to him. “Emery, I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, but there are things I don’t talk about. With anyone.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

  Besides the loud truck going by on the street, it’s quiet again. I’m about to ask if he’ll take me home when he speaks again. “Do you remember how big it seemed when we walked in today and the lights were on? Do you remember stepping out onto the field?”

  “Yes, this place is huge.”

  He nods, agreeing with me. “I get sick before every game. Everyone thinks I’m this cool, calm, collected guy who can just step onto the field and make magic happen, but inside, I’m scared to death. You step out here and there’s voices, the roar of the crowd, reporters wanting to ask a few questions … it’s too much sometimes.”

  “Why do you do it then?”

  “Because I’m good at it. Because it’s going to get me somewhere.”

  “There are a lot of things out there that will get you somewhere.”

  He lets go of my hand and sits up. “It was his dream, and I need to see it through.”

  Sitting up next to him, I ask, “Whose dream?”

  “My dad’s,” he replies, running his fingers through his hair. My hand reaches up to rub his back, but before I actually touch him, I pull away, not sure if it’s my place.

  “Why did you say it was his dream?” I ask, remembering his exact words.

  Glancing at me with pained eyes, he says, “Let’s leave that one alone.”

  I’m disappointed, but in a way, I understand him. It’s not easy to open up, and it takes a lot of trust. Maybe he just hasn’t gotten to that point with me yet.

  The wind has picked up, and I wrap my arms around my legs to chase away the chill. “Are you cold?” Drake asks as he runs the back of his hand up and down my arm.

  “A little.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says, standing up. “I’ll give you a ride back to your dorm.”

  Part of me wants to stay here so I can pretend for a little longer. Pretend that this is all I have to do, sitting on this worn blanket staring up at the stars, but it’s not reality.

  Standing up, I stretch my arms over my head to loosen my stiff back. It’s been a long day. It’ll be nice to throw on some sweats and crawl into my warm bed.

  Drake rolls up the blanket and tucks it under his arm, taking my fingers between his again. “You don’t mind this, do you?” he asks, raising our joined hands up slightly.

  “It’s okay,” I reply shyly.

  He smiles, leading us back across the dark field and down the dark hall. He doesn’t say a word until we’re back to his car. “This night didn’t turn out exactly how I’d planned, but I’m still glad we came.”

  “Me too.”

  He lets go of my hand, brushing his fingers across my cheek. His eyes have the intensity they held that day in the library. This time I lean in, attempting to meet him half way, but he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and backs away. I don’t know what it is about him, about us, but I’ve never been more pissed about a non-kiss. Maybe it’s because I’ve never wanted someone to kiss me as much as I want Drake to kiss me.

  As he walks away, I climb through the door he opened for me, and collapse into the passenger’s seat. There’s a familiar tightness in my chest because of what just happened. I hate how he can brush this stuff under the rug like it’s nothing, because it’s starting to mean something to me.

  I stare at him as he climbs in but he won’t look at me. I hate this feeling. Ignoring someone is rejection in its worst form. He starts the car, quickly throwing it in drive. “Listen, can we get together tomorrow to go over the speech? I really feel bad about last week.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I want to,” he replies in a way that doesn’t give me much leeway.

  “Call me when you get up then. I don’t have anything planned,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against the cool window.

  I wonder if he knows how much he irritates me when he comes close to taking whatever is going on between us to another level then pulls away. I wonder if he realizes how badly I want him to press his lips to mine … so badly that I’m thinking about it right now.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I close my eyes. Tonight on the football field was perfect. There wasn’t anything fancy or glitzy about it. It was just us, and I opened up to him in a way I rarely do with anyone. I never feel like he’s judging me, and that freedom feels nice.

  “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, drawing me back in a couple minutes later.

  “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.” I’m trying hard not to tarnish the nice night we had.

  As he pulls into an empty space in front of my building, I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door. I’m ready for these awkward moments with Drake Chambers to end. I just want to climb in my bed and wake up tomorrow with a clean slate.

  “Emery!” he yells as I make my way up the walkway.

  For a minute, I think about ignoring him, but in the end, I face him, trying to bury away the stubborn part of me.

  “Thank you … for tonight,” he says, tucking his hands in his front pockets.

  “Yeah, it was nice. Thank you.” And just like that, he turns and climbs back into his car.

  I’m left wondering if he feels anything like what I feel, or if I’m just wasting my time on something that will never be.

  I FUCK THINGS UP, that’s what I do. I’ve proven it over and over again. The other night with Emery … she gave me another chance after I acted like an asshole in the library, and I pretty much did the same thing to her all over again. I wanted to kiss her so badly, and I felt like she wanted it, too. In the end, I was too afraid of what that next step would mean.

  I’m always in control, but I feel it slipping whenever I’m with her. So far, I’ve been lucky enough to catch myself before I fall completely. I just don’t know how much longer I can hold on. Emery’s not the type of girl I’m going to be able to kiss once and then walk away from, and I don’t have time after football and personal issues to take on a relationship.

  When I called her this morning about getting together to run through our presentation, I didn’t expect her to suggest we meet in her room. I’ve been in girls’ rooms—that’s not the problem—but this is Emery. She pulls me in. She tests me. She makes me want something I shouldn’t even be thinking about, but yet I can’t let her go.

  Gripping an iced latte in one hand, I use my other to knock. I stare at the old hollow wood door while I wait for her to answer, rocking back and forth on my heels. We ended things on a strange note last night, or should I say I did.

  As the door swings open, I can’t take my eyes off the girl in front of me. Gray sweats and a white t-shirt never looked so good.

  “Hey.” She smiles nervously, motioning for me to come in.

  “I brought you a little pick me up.” After handing her the latte, I walk to the center of the room, glancing around for a place to sit.

  She lets out of soft moan that makes it hard to just stand here. The more I’m around her, the more I want her … all of her. “God, this is so good. How did you know what I liked?”

  Fuck. This girl has no idea what those words are doing to me. “Maybe I know everything about you.”

  She comes closer, her eyes roaming the length of my body. I wonder if she thinks I don’t notice. “If you know everything, tell me what I’m thinking right now?”

  “The way you’re looking at my lips … I’d say you’re thinking about what it would be like to kiss me.” I can’t help the cocky grin that spreads ac
ross my face. I probably shouldn’t be doing this. I’ve almost kissed her more than once. Joking about it now is a dick move, but I can’t stop.

  Her eyes snap to mine as she takes a step back. “Can we just be serious for once? Besides, not every girl wants to kiss you.”

  I shrug. “I’m not talking about every girl.” I pull my backpack off my shoulder and throw it on one of the small twin beds. “Anyway, I listened that day in the coffee shop. I know what you like.”

  She practically spits out a mouth full of latte, brushing the back of her hand along her chin. “I bet you think you do.”

  Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I stretch my arms above my head. “Are you ready to get some work done?”

  “Yeah, I, uh, put together an outline of our whole presentation.” She shuffles some papers on her desk and hands me something that looks like it took more time than any research paper I’ve ever written. “Let’s go through it a couple times until we get to the point where we don’t need this.”

  “I’m ready.”

  As we go through line by line, I have a new respect for Emery. She’s spent a lot of time on this, and I owe every bit of the “A” we’re sure to get on this to her. The emotion she feels bleeds through her words. This is personal to her … it’s personal to me.

  “I can’t thank you enough for doing all this, Emery.”

  “You haven’t been that bad to work with,” she teases, sitting a couple feet away from me on the bed.

  “I mean it,” I say quietly, shifting toward her. Her eyes widen as I lean in to brush my lips against her forehead. I’ve wanted to kiss this girl for so long, but if this is all I’m going to get, I’m going to take it. “I need to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She nods, closing her eyes for a brief moment before finding mine again. Those beautiful brown eyes are going to undo me, and I don’t know if I have anything left in me to fight it.

  When I walk into class, my eyes roam the room, looking for her. Today is the day we make our big presentation, and I’m not sure where we go from there. I should leave her alone, but I’m not sure I can.

  “Hey, I’m over here.” I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

  Looking to my right, I spot her sitting front and center. That should have been the first place I looked. I hope she doesn’t read too much into the big fucking smile that forms on my face. It’s automatic.

  “Are you ready?” she asks as I take the seat next to her.

  “Are you kidding me? This is nothing compared to leading the team down the field for the game winning score.”

  “Do you compare everything to football?” She gives me a sideways glance, and she looks really fucking cute doing it.

  “It’s all I know,” I say honestly.

  “I think you know a lot more than that,” she whispers, pulling our speech notes from her backpack.

  Class starts, and I pretend to listen to each pair as I glance down at the package I brought for Emery. I picked it up and put it back down a handful of times before even leaving my room this morning. I still haven’t decided if I’m going to give it to her or not because I don’t want her to think it’s more than it is.

  Hell, I don’t even know for sure why I’m giving it to her. Maybe I’m scared that after we give our presentation, there won’t be any reason for us to spend any more time together. Usually, I’d be happy to walk away, but this time I don’t want to.

  When our names are called, I take a deep breath and walk to the front of the room in the same way I walk onto the football field every Saturday. Even if I’m not ready for this, I’m going to fake it like I am.

  Emery goes first, like we’d planned, talking about nature and how she’s come to believe it affects the way we handle our nurture. I’m lost in every word she says until she starts to stumble. She’s talking about studies done on children who weren’t raised by their biological parents, and how even when they’ve never spent a day with them, they can have similar behaviors and characteristics.

  I take over for her, trying to make the transition as seamless as possible. I’m relieved when I look out the corner of my eye and see the appreciation on her face. I wasn’t trying to tell her in any way that she couldn’t do it. I only wanted to help and show her that I understand everything she’s going through. I continue on with my part. How what we’re taught from a young age determines how we react to things until the day we die. Those first few years are important … so fucking important.

  When we’re done, we take our seats and listen to the remaining two presenters. It’s actually hard to concentrate because all I can think about is whether or not I’m going to go through with my plan. It’s a step ... no, it’s a huge leap for me.

  Professor McGill speaks, bringing my attention back to the front of the room. “I’d like to thank you all for the time you put into these presentations. I’ll have your grades to you by the end of the week.”

  As she walks away from the podium, the back and forth debate continues in my head. In the end, after a quick glance toward Emery, I decide I have nothing to lose. She might say no, but then we wouldn’t be any different than we are now. But there’s a chance she might say yes, and I haven’t decided what that means for me yet … or us.

  She stands, putting her things into her backpack. It’s now or never. When I see the sad look that still covers her face, the words just come out. “Can we talk outside?”

  She surveys the room before her eyes find me again. “Why can’t you talk to me here?”

  “Just give me two minutes,” I whisper, careful that no one overhears.

  Sighing, she throws her bag over her shoulders and starts toward the door. “You’re scaring me, Drake.”

  I follow her out the door like I’m some sort of lost puppy. I’ve never cared this much about what a girl thought, nor have I gone out of my way to try to get to know one.

  As the door closes behind us, I take a deep breath. I started this and now I have to finish it. “Are you okay?” I ask, tempted to reach up and stroke my fingers across her cheek.

  She startles, looking up and down the long hallway. “I started to think about my mom, and I lost it. I guess it doesn’t matter how much time has passed … it still hurts.”

  I cup her face in my hand, rubbing my thumb along her cheekbone. “I just want to know that you’re all right.”

  “I’m sorry I blew it. Thank you for taking over for me.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

  She nods, her sad eyes locking with mine. I think a person can tell the minute they care about another person by how much they absorb the other person’s emotions – taking them as their own. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a twinge of pain in my chest right now. This girl, so sweet, so beautiful, is hurting, and I want to make it all go away.

  Breaking eye contact, I reach into my bag and pull out the gift I packed inside. As I hand it to her, my fingers tremble. Whether she opens it here or later isn’t really up to me, but I’d rather not look rejection in the face.

  “What is this for?” she asks, looking between me and the handle of the bag wrapped around her fingers.

  “Consider it a thank you for not giving up on me,” I reply, rubbing my hand along the back of my neck.

  “Can I open it?” she asks, fingering the layer of tissue paper that peaks over the top.

  Shit. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. “It’s up to you.”

  A smile lights her face as she pulls the first piece of tissue paper out and then the next. My heart races when she gets to what’s underneath and removes it from the bag. “It’s your jersey.”

  “This Saturday is homecoming, and I’d like you to come to the game. Everyone should experience at least one football game in their life, and you just happen to be the first person I’ve let wear one of my jerseys.”

  She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, looking at me with unasked questions in her eyes. I want her to say yes, because for whatever reason, k
nowing she is there will give me an added boost. I want her to see me doing what I do best. I want her to know that I’m not the fucking failure I’ve made myself out to be. We’re more alike than she thinks; we simply focus our energy on different things.

  “Do you have to know now?”

  “No, you can hold onto it. For what it’s worth, I really want you to come.” I sound more nonchalant than I feel, but I’m trying the best I can to mask my disappointment.

  She folds the shirt back into the bag. “I want to … it’s just …”

  “Just what?” I ask, taking a step closer to her.

  “I don’t know what my plans are yet. I might be doing something with Kate.”

  Maybe I know her a little too well already because I suspected she might play this card. “There are three tickets in the bottom of the bag. Bring whoever you want.”

  Her eyes widen as she watches me. She’s used to being the smartest girl in the room, but not this time. I close the remaining space between us, leaving only inches between our bodies. She watches me intently as I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear. “I want you there. Don’t let me down.”

  I hear her sharp intake of breath and back away, keeping my eyes on her as I walk backward down the hall. “See you Saturday, Emery.”

  WHY CAN’T THIS DECISION BE EASY? Like choosing whether I want butter on my popcorn or pepperoni on my pizza. But no, I’m trying to decide if I should go to the football game. Not just any football game, but the one where the starting quarterback just happens to be the one guy who I’ve let get under my skin. The one guy who makes me want to break my own rules.

  I struggle with it because it’s like opening a door with no idea what’s behind it. I’m not the kind of girl who does that. I live in this safe, pre-planned world I’ve created, and while it always feels like something is missing, I’m content. Right now, it’s enough. Drake’s intentions are unknown to me, and that scares me … it brings me out of the safe shell I’ve been hiding under.

  I manage to avoid him Wednesday and Friday by coming to class right before it starts and grabbing a seat in the back. I feel like I’m back in middle school again because I’m working so hard at avoiding a potentially uncomfortable situation. I have no idea what to say to him, and I don’t want him to ask me if I’d made a decision yet.