by Cat Jordan
“Oh, right, yeah,” Debra said quickly. “You should do what he wants. He’s the one who’s been away.”
Been away. “I think we’ll probably just hang at his house like we usually do.”
Katrina leaned into my shoulder. “And watch the ball drop?” she snickered.
“Yeah, actually, we will.”
“Ugh, boring.”
“But romantic,” Haley said. “It’s sweet. Just the two of you.”
“Not just the two of us. His parents will be there.”
“Well, if you change your mind, there are three parties to choose from.” Haley stopped and shook her head. “Hmm, just two. I’m not going to wear a superfancy dress like it’s the formal or something.”
“And I’m not going to your parents’ party,” Debra said.
“Then it’s my party!” Katrina beamed with delight. “Party! Party! Party!”
The girls cheered, filling the small café with laughter, and I couldn’t help but join in. Party, party, party, I thought. It did sound like fun. I wondered if I could convince Nate to go.
“Aw, Mid, I’m sorry,” Nate said when I arrived at his house on New Year’s Eve. “I really don’t think I want to go to a party. Can’t it just be you and me tonight?”
Even though I knew that would be his response, I’d dressed up a little nicer than usual, just in case, wearing a lacy long skirt over black boots and a V-neck white-and-black embroidered top. Yeah, I was a little disappointed. Not that I didn’t want it to be just the two of us, but with his parents and Scotty and the twins around, it was mostly not the two of us.
Still, I bobbed my head with a smile. “Sure, of course.”
“They’ll go to bed early,” he said with a sly grin. He pulled me down to him on the sofa.
“Were you reading my mind?” I blushed as he took me in his arms.
Nate brushed his lips against my cheek. His gaze held mine forcefully, as if to prove to me his inner strength was greater than his physical limitations.
“I want it back,” he said. “I want all of it back just the way it was.” He looked at me expectantly, and I whispered, “So do I.”
He bent toward me, placing a kiss firmly on my lips, his hands on my back and his fingers in my hair. Just as things began to heat up, we heard voices in the kitchen.
“Can I stay up till midnight?” Scotty asked.
“If he gets to, we get to too!” one of the twins said indignantly.
“No one is staying up till midnight,” Mr. Bingham replied.
“Why not? Nate and Middie are.”
Mrs. Bingham’s voice rose above the others. “When you’re twelve you can stay up until twelve.”
“What can we do if we’re not twelve?” Scotty wanted to know.
“Make popcorn.”
I whispered to Nate, “I’m so glad we’re older than twelve.”
Then one of the girls said, “Can we watch TV with Nate and Middie?”
Nate looked at me. “Are we watching TV?”
“Ask first,” Mr. Bingham said.
“Nate!” the twins shouted. “Can we come in and watch TV with you?”
Nate and I exchanged a glance and a shrug. “You mind?”
I shook my head. “Of course not.”
As the twins bounded in, I rearranged myself on the couch, detangling my skirt from Nate’s legs. All dressed up and no place to go, I thought.
Or was I? This was my place.
For the next three hours, we played Monopoly with the girls and video games on Scotty’s Xbox. We ate popcorn and chocolate kisses and watched the ball drop in Times Square at nine West Coast time, which was the best compromise Nate’s parents could come up with for the kids. After celebrating with sparkling apple cider and playing another round of Monopoly, Scotty and the girls managed to eke out an extra couple of hours before they were sent off to bed. Mr. and Mrs. Bingham finally left us alone just before twelve.
We were both beat. Nate’s grin was tired as he sprawled back on the couch. “This being-normal thing is exhausting. I hope it gets better.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Every day will get better until you’re better.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” I turned to look at him. He had a smudge of chocolate on his chin from one of the candies. I wiped it off with my thumb and licked it. Suddenly, Nate dove toward me, his lips on my mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the chocolate on my lips. His hands were on my waist and he was pulling me onto his lap, folding himself over me on the couch. I stretched my legs along the length of the sofa and felt Nate do the same, aligning his hips and his legs to mine. I heard his voice whisper my name, a sweet, melancholy sigh, just before he kissed a gentle trail down my neck. Not so tired after all, I thought, smiling to myself.
I let my hands follow a path along his shoulder and back, down the side of his waist and slope of his hip. We were getting back to the way things were before—finally. And even though Nate’s body felt different beside mine, it was him. I felt myself sigh in return. “Nate . . .”
I wanted Nate’s kisses to make me forget everything else, to let me sink into him and never return, which was almost close to happening when the doorbell rang. Nate looked at me. “It’s almost midnight. Who’s coming here on New Year’s Eve?”
“No idea.”
The door opened. “Yo, Happy New Year.”
I shot up to a sitting position, but Nate merely grinned. “Lee, dude, come in.”
Lee? I felt myself stiffen as I glanced at Nate. “Were you expecting him?”
He shrugged. “You never know with Lee.”
Part of me wanted to stand when he walked in—a hug? A half kiss? What did friends like us do? My mind raced, trying to recall how we were with each other before Nate left. We barely knew who the other was—would we be like that again? Should we?
Lee solved that conundrum by remaining at the edge of the rug, hands stuffed in the pockets of his ripped jeans. Despite the cold weather, he wore only a Windbreaker over a T-shirt and his ink-covered sneakers.
“Hey, Lee,” I said with a smile. “Happy New Year.” Nate tucked his fingers around mine, and I felt his solidarity with me. We were a couple. Lee was a third wheel. If anything I should feel sorry for him. “You want some sparkling cider?”
Lee’s hazel eyes barely registered my presence before alighting upon Nate. “Dude, you’re not at a party.”
Nate leaned forward on the couch and slung an arm around my shoulder. “Neither are you.”
Lee opened his jacket and showed us a bottle of beer tucked inside. I recognized the brand and felt my cheeks warm as I remembered drinking it with him. “I take the party with me wherever I go.”
“Classy,” I said, but again, Lee ignored me.
He opened the other side of his jacket. Another beer. “Got one with your name on it. Come on, let’s go.”
“We’re kind of hanging out,” I told him. “Alone.”
“I’ll get him back by midnight, Yoko. Don’t you fret.”
“It’s almost midnight now.” I heard my voice harden.
“Well, sure, if you’re celebrating in this time zone.”
I turned to look at Nate, but he was watching Lee. “What do you have in mind?”
Lee’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe a drive?”
Nate clapped his hands once. “Yes!” He stood uncertainly but refused my help.
“Are you going? Really?”
“Just for a few minutes,” he said, pecking me on the cheek. He started to leave the room. “I gotta get a sweater. Entertain Lee while I’m gone.”
My face flushed beet red and I glanced down at my feet. “You sure? I can go—”
He put his hands on my arms. “You don’t have to do everything for me. I’ll be down in two seconds.” He left the room and I expected . . .
What, Middie? What could possibly happen?
I hadn’t seen Lee in person since Nate’s party, and I wasn’t sure wha
t to expect, but it wasn’t this. He wasn’t talking to me, wasn’t looking at me, wasn’t even acknowledging my existence.
Jerk, I thought. Well, if he wanted cool, then I would give him cool.
“How’s work?” I asked. “Business good?” That was nice, I thought. A very nice, casual thing to say.
I heard a crinkle of a chocolate kiss being unwrapped. Rude jerk. Whatever.
“Guess not too many people want to go hiking now, huh?”
He drowned out the second half of my sentence with more wrapper noise.
So irritating. I turned to him, mouth open, about to call him out on his rudeness—and met his gaze. Suddenly my nerves were like live wires. I could feel every word in my mouth as if it were in a foreign language, as if I’d never spoken it before.
The room felt supercharged, the air electrified. And yet, the only word I could use to describe Lee’s mood was “bored.” He chewed the chocolate candy as if he were eating cardboard. There was absolutely nothing in his face that showed he was engaged, interested, or even present.
I cast a glance down my body—was I the only one feeling this? Was Lee completely immune to the energy between us? He couldn’t be.
But his eyes were so vacant, so absent. His gaze flicked over me briefly before he rolled up the tin foil and hooked it above my head and into an empty cup on the coffee table.
“Two points!” Nate called from the staircase. Lee and I turned.
“Shoulda gone pro,” Lee said with a lopsided grin.
“Shoulda played JV,” Nate replied.
“Eh, high school ball is overrated.”
Nate opened the door and a blast of cold air swept through the foyer. He stared down the driveway and a grin spread across his face. “Is that it?”
The Mustang.
“It is,” Lee told Nate proudly. He slapped Nate on the back, boxing me out. “I told you it’d be done in no time.”
“Holy shit, it looks awesome!”
“Well, come on, let’s drive.”
I grabbed my jacket and started to follow them out the door, my hand firmly in Nate’s, when Lee stopped us. “Uh-uh, just us, Yoko.”
“But . . . we’re friends, aren’t we? All three of us?” I asked. I could feel my heart thumping behind my ribs as I waited for an answer. Friends, we’re friends.
“Yeah, of course we’re friends,” Nate replied matter-of-factly.
We both looked at Lee, who reluctantly shrugged his shoulders. “Friends, sure. Peachy keen, happy friend time. Whatever, dude, can we go?”
“So then . . . ?” I glanced at Nate, who looked torn. He also looked pretty excited to drive the car.
“It probably won’t be that much fun,” Nate said. “I mean, for you, since you can’t drive stick.”
“I can dr—” I stopped and looked straight at Lee. His gaze betrayed nothing. In that moment, I felt like I could have dropped the entire bomb on Nate—about Lee, about me, about us—and Lee could not have cared less. I was nothing to him now.
“What’s that?” Nate wanted to know.
“Um, never mind.” I shook my head and smiled with my lips pressed together.
Nate must have sensed my disappointment. “Maybe I should stay.”
“No, go,” I said, waving him away. “Have fun in the . . . What did you say it was?”
“Mustang. 1966,” he said, his excitement bubbling over. Gone was his exhaustion from a night with the family and in its place was a boyish glee at hopping in a sports car and driving fast. “Wait till you see it in daylight, Mid. Oh man, it’s sweet.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “Another time.”
Nate high-fived Lee and got an easy grin in return. “Dude, let’s go.”
“I’ll be back for our kiss at midnight,” Nate called to me as Lee urged him down the steps.
I heard them whooping as they raced off to the Mustang.
I closed the door and leaned back against it with all of my weight. An image of Lee and Nate in the newly restored car popped into my head and refused to leave. I kept thinking about Lee calling me “Yoko.” I was the third wheel, not Lee.
CHAPTER twenty-two
With my head buried in my books for the first week of the new year, I hardly saw Nate at all. But one morning he surprised me with a phone call at five fifteen, our usual time for an early run. “Meet me downstairs in ten minutes,” he told me. “Dress for rain.”
I did, tiptoeing out the front door to see Nate slowly jogging up the driveway. I ran down to meet him, nearly crushing him with a hug. “You’re running!”
“Well, not running, but kind of jogging and walking and stopping a lot,” he said, a bit out of breath, his face flushed with the thrill of his success. “I have to be careful I don’t step on a rock or in a pothole, but so far, so good.”
“This is amazing!” I stared down at Nate’s legs. “I knew you could do it.”
“With your help,” he said and kissed me on the lips as if this were any normal run instead of a monumental achievement. “Come on, let’s go.”
A light morning mist blew against my cheeks as we set out down the road at a comfortable pace. It wasn’t fast enough to build up a sweat, but it was exciting to see Nate’s progress just the same. He was cautious in his steps but not fearful, and every hundred yards or so, he would slow to a walk, swinging his upper body while he gave himself some time to breathe. I jogged in place next to him to stay warm.
We were quiet as we ran so Nate could conserve his energy. At this early hour, the sun was just peeking over the horizon, made gray by the thin layer of clouds, which would likely burn off by the time I had to go to school. Off in the distance I heard a few trucks, a horn honking, a plane, but on this back road we were surrounded by soaring pines stretching into the sky.
Not far from Nate’s house, we slowed to a crawl and finally a stop. Nate paused, leaning both hands on his knees.
“You okay?” I asked, touching the back of his neck, which was slick with sweat and rain.
He nodded, sucking in air, and then exhaled. “I’m good. Although this would be a lot easier with a car.” He added, “Like a cool Mustang.”
“Oh, right, cool.” I wondered how much I was supposed to know about the car other than what I’d seen on New Year’s Eve.
“That’s ours, you know,” he said proudly. “Lee and I fixed it up together.”
Lee and I fixed it up together. I tried to keep my voice neutral. “You never mentioned it before.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said. “I’ll show you how to drive it sometime. It’s a manual transmission.”
“Sure.” I glanced down at my shoes and then back up at Nate. “You ready to go?”
The mist was gone, but there was still moisture in the air. My jacket and sweatpants clung to my legs and back and my ponytail kept sticking to my cheeks when the wind blew it against my face. I had a headband wrapped around my ears to keep them warm but wished I had added a scarf.
Nate stretched the backs of his calves and hamstrings and started to jog again. “Now that I’m back, you can concentrate on school again.” He glanced sideways at me as we took off. “You are still applying to Lewis & Clark, right?”
“Well, yeah, of course I am,” I said a little irritably. “Why would you say that?”
“Just checking.”
For another quarter mile, we jogged silently, but the noises of the morning were stealing into our quiet bubble. Birds, dogs, people—their sounds dotted the landscape like drips of paint on a canvas.
“Middie . . .”
I stopped and turned to discover Nate was trailing behind me by about a dozen paces. Somehow I’d run past him without realizing it. I jogged back a few steps to meet him.
“You can do this,” he said. “We can do it together—you and me. If we stay on our path, the one we’ve wanted for years, we’ll be fine.”
“But what if I—” Don’t know what I want?
Nate took
my arm and pulled me close to him. His breath was on my neck as he held me by the waist. “Since our first date, I’ve loved you.”
I didn’t want to let him down—how could I do that to him? I felt a sudden rush of warmth as he embraced me, his lips on mine. I knew him so well I could close my eyes and see every detail on his face, like the single freckle over his left eye and the tiny crinkle at his temple when he was lost in thought.
“I was terrified I was lost forever, that I’d never find my way back, but I kept picturing you and that would calm me down.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Your face, your hands, your body . . .” He ran his hands along the sides of my waist and hips. “And I could see the future, our future. I knew that if I could just get back here, my life would have meaning.”
My life would have meaning. Even at his worst moments, Nate was thinking of others, of a greater purpose.
My hands began to tremble and my eyes filled with tears. “I love you too.” I leaned my head against his chest and listened to the steady pounding of his heart. We stood like that, swaying slightly from side to side, intimate yet comfortable, as we always had been with each other. Finally, Nate broke the silence.
“Tell you what . . . you write your college essay today—”
I groaned aloud, shaking my head. “Noooo . . .”
“—and I’ll write my speech and then we’ll go to the movies,” Nate said. “My treat.”
I cocked an eye, regarding him at arm’s length. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Popcorn?”
“With extra butter.”
“And M&M’s?”
“Hmmm . . .” He pretended he was thinking about it. “Maybe.”
I tilted my chin haughtily. “It’s yes—or no deal.”
He laughed. “Okay then, it’s yes. M&M’s.”
I kissed him with a loud smack on the lips. “Deal.”
“Good.” He gently turned me around, facing me back the way we came. “Go. Study. Finish your application.”
I saluted him with two fingers. “Aye, aye, Captain.” I ran off toward home just as the sun began to burn off the low-lying fog. It was the start to a beautiful day.