Delicate

by Stephanie Campbell

  “You know, you sure tell people what they should and shouldn’t do a whole lot.” He winks. And I’m a goner.

  “Well, thanks. I haven’t seen Maisy that talkative in a really long time. She must really like you.”

  “Does it run in the family?” he smirks. “I’m kidding, don’t answer that. She’s a great kid.”

  I swallow. And then I do a mental countdown to work up my nerve.

  5…4…3…2… Talk.

  “Do you want to stay for a while?”

  Grant nods and follows me back into the living room. There’s some old 70s game show rerun on that I have zero interest in. But there’s no way I could concentrate on anything anyway, so I don’t bother looking for something better. Still, we both sit there. Quiet. Feigning interest in the show. Like a couple of middle-schoolers on their first date.

  “So, my mom mentioned they’re going to pick up shooting of your show in the next week or so, right? Are you okay with that?”

  “Yep,” I say. I pull my hair back and twist it into a knot on the back of my head.

  “I mean, I just worry that…” Grant doesn’t finish.

  Drama. Trevor. Yeah, I get it.

  “You worry a lot,” I say.

  “Sorry ‘bout that.” He smiles.

  He reaches over and tucks a piece of hair that’s already fallen from the loose knot back behind my ear. And it’s then, when the familiar goosebumps cover me, that I realize how much I’ve come to crave it.

  I suck up my nerves and rearrange myself so that I’m sitting cross-legged facing him. Only a few inches separate us now.

  Breathe.

  “I’m sorry you had to see all of that today. I’m so freaking embarrassed.” I try my hardest not to look away from him. To maintain that constant eye contact that he specializes in.

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  He runs his thumb along my arm.

  Breathe.

  “Yeah, I really do. Trevor shouldn’t have caused a scene like that. And I shouldn’t have let you get so involved.”

  “The thing is, I want to be involved. If you’re a part of something, I want to be there. I can’t for the life of me understand why you’re even involved with that guy, but I can’t change your mind. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be there for you, though.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.” I finally have to look away.

  “Sydney,” he breathes. The way he says it and the warmth of his breath inundate me. There’s so much emotion behind those two syllables. I can’t make sense of how he does it. Grant leans in and wraps his hand around the back of my neck, his long fingers tickle and tangle the baby fine hairs. Softly, he pulls my face in toward his and rests his chin on my forehead.

  “You’d never have to ask for anything from me. I’d do anything for you. Willingly, you know? And then some.”

  He tips his head slightly and presses his lips to my forehead. They’re warm and electric. But it’s his words that stun me. Wrap around me. Leaving me tumbly and shaky with an inexplicable longing. I don’t think about what I’m doing for once. I don’t calculate risk. Or weigh options. I don’t think about deductions for imperfect form. I just do it.

  I press my lips to his. At first he’s frozen. But it only takes a second before his mouth and the rest of him reacts. He pulls me in by my hips and crushes his mouth onto mine. It’s warm and intense and everything I’d expected it to be. And better. All of the months of pent-up attraction and fascination collide, and the result is nothing short of exhilarating.

  His grip on my hip is firm and protective, without feeling possessive. It’s so different from what I’d experienced before. He parts my lips gently and his warm breath fills my mouth. One of his hands moves to my face and the other rests just under my tank top on the bare skin of my back.

  This is a completely new feeling. Even with Trevor, I never experienced this level of desire. Something about our connection is so different. It’s just so much more than physical with Grant. But the physical stuff is amazing. Right now, in this moment, in these arms, I understand just how hard I’d been fighting it.

  I lean back on the sofa and pull Grant down on top of me without releasing his lips. He lets out a low, soft moan and positions himself carefully so that he isn’t actually putting any weight on me. I wouldn’t care if he was. I want to be near him.

  He unlocks his lips from mine and moves them to my neck. My entire body is tingling at the feeling of his mouth on my skin. I don’t ever want it to stop. I wonder if he has any idea how amazing it feels to be so close to him. Or how good he is at what he’s doing. He moves his lips to my collar bone and, from there, down the length of my arm. The kisses are slow and he intertwines his hand in mine.

  “Sydney,” he sighs. He’s stopped kissing me, but the room is still spinning. He’s not holding me anymore, but is sitting on the floor, kneeling right beside me on the sofa, but he might as well be a continent away now.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask self-consciously.

  He exhales sharply. “We can’t do this.”

  “What? Why not?” My insecurity takes over and the room comes to an abrupt halt.

  “Trust me, there’s nothing I’d rather do.” He leans in and kisses the top of my nose. I won’t look at him. “But you’ve got to figure out what you want for yourself. I told you, I don’t want to complicate things, and that’s exactly what this is doing.”

  Please stop trying to be a good guy and just go back to kissing me.

  “I don’t want to stop.” I let the words tumble out before I can stop them. He lets out a deep chuckle, because apparently my honesty is amusing.

  “You have no idea how much I don’t want you to.” He breathes in my ear. His voice is nearly hypnotizing me again.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I ask.

  “Sydney, be serious. I’ve made it completely clear how I feel about you. I’d like nothing more than to be able to kiss you every second of everyday. And then some. But you need to make up your mind about what you want. And who you want.” He’s still holding my hand and rubbing it along the side of his face.

  But he cheats on his own rules and lightly kisses my ear, causing the pleasure-filled vertigo to return.

  “Will you at least stay with me tonight? I mean, just sleep?” I ask. I don’t even recognize my own voice.

  He doesn’t respond right away. He just looks at me, thinking about what the right thing to do is. He’s forever trying to do the right thing.

  When he speaks, he sounds unsure, and maybe a little pained.

  “I would kill to be able to wake up next to you in the morning, Syd. But with Maisy here…it’s just not the best idea.” It dawns on me that it’s actually hard on him. He’s trying to convince himself just as much as he’s trying to convince me.

  I frown, a big, childish pout.

  “You’re making it incredibly difficult for me to be the good guy right now,” he says with a soft laugh. He lightly breezes his thumb across my pouting lip. “Let me at least get you up to bed.” Grant effortlessly scoops me up into his arms. My first instinct is to argue that it’s not necessary to carry me, but I decide against it. It likely wouldn’t do any good, and I want to be close to him. So this time, I don’t shy away from his grip on my thighs, and instead, bury myself into his strong chest and his clean, warm smell. He takes the time to walk to each of the lamps while he holds me and turn them off before heading up the stairs.

  “You’re going to have to point me in the right direction,” he whispers. Maisy has already gone to bed, and the hallway is dark. I point to my bedroom door, the second one on the right, and Grant carries me inside, holding me as close as possible.

  “So, this is your room,” he says. He glances all around, taking in the trophies and photos. I cringe when he stops to inspect a photo of Trevor and me. Happy. Close. Grant doesn’t flinch, or otherwise react. I get the feeling he’s not intimidated by Trevor —or my relationship w
ith him, whatever that is.

  Finally, Grant carries me to my bed and sets me down. I pull my down comforter up over my body. I catch his eyes drift over to the alarm clock on the nightstand and I frown, anticipating his next move.

  “It’s getting really late. You’d better get some sleep…big party tomorrow, remember?” he says.

  “I guess,” I concede with a heavy shrug. I can already feel my eyes getting heavier now that I’m in bed. It’s been a draining day.

  “I’ll lock up on my way out. Call me tomorrow.”

  I nod and let my eyes close. I feel the warmth of his lips on my forehead. I can’t even dream anything this good.

  -Twenty-three—

  The next day is one of those busy days that leave you euphoric from having been so productive. Maisy and I clean the house, grocery shop, and rearrange the living room. Thanks to Grant breaking the ice, she and I talk more than we have in a long time.

  “Hey, Syd,” she says. We’re folding laundry on the couch. It’s nothing serious, but her face is thoughtful. “I’m sorry your plans got messed up this weekend. Sorry you have to stay with me.”

  I toss the t-shirt I was folding back into the wrinkled pile.

  “I’m not,” I say.

  “And I’m sorry I’ve sorta been a jerk lately.”

  “Maisy, you haven’t,” I say. It’s a lie. She has. But she’s my sister. My only sister.

  “Yeah, I really have. It’s just that I get jealous of you.” She’s analyzing three different socks to decipher which are matches.

  “Why in the world would you be jealous of me?” I’m floored.

  “You have everything. Gymnastics. The cool boyfriend. Or two,” she says with a broad smile. “And you had mom…”

  And there it is.

  “Maisy… I work really hard at gymnastics. That’s not something that comes easy. You could do really well at things, too, if you tried. As for Mom, you’re right. I feel guilty about that every single day. The boyfriend stuff, well, that’s a lot more complicated…

  She shrugs.

  Maisy’s friends show up later that night. Dad had talked with each of their parents before he left to let them know that he’d be out of town and it was just me at home, but still, they all came to the door to check on things, and talk about gymnastics and the show. I hate being a spectacle. I debated whether to call Quinn and Tess to come stay with me and the girls, but decided against it at the last minute. I hadn’t really been a great friend to either one of them lately. I’m glad there’s only a week of school left, then I’ll have some more free time to devote to my friends.

  Grant had said he’d be spending most of the summer in New York. I felt queasy all of a sudden at the thought of not seeing him for months. I don’t have any trouble remembering the way it felt when he held me last night. Or the new brazenness I felt kissing him.

  But I don’t regret it. He told me to call him, but I’ve been putting it off all evening, waiting until Maisy and her friends were settled in for the night. I want to be able to devote my full attention to him. That doesn’t stop me from counting down the hours until I could make the call and hear his voice.

  I’ve been thinking all day about what he said about my needing to figure things out before there could be anything between me and him. I know he’s right. I love Trevor. It’s not as easy as Grant makes it all sound. To just walk away? I owe it to Trevor to talk to him and sort it all out once and for all. I know I should feel guilty that I’m putting him through all of this the week before his graduation, but I just can’t make myself.

  The girls aren’t nearly as much trouble as I’d expected. For the most part, they’ve just stayed up in Maisy’s room on their phones. I try to remember back to when I was thirteen, to what I did for my birthday. I can’t conjure up a memory. I probably had a workout. Or two. After the girls have raided the kitchen for dessert, they quiet down enough for me to make my long-anticipated call.

  It’s absurd to be as nervous as I am as I dial Grant’s number. He’d told me to call. As soon as the ringing starts, I realize that it’s far later than I’d thought. I’m debating whether or not to just hang up when he answers.

  “Sydney!” His voice is full of delight. I can almost see his smile through the phone. Brightening his entire face and crinkling the skin around his eyes.

  “I’m sorry to call so late,” I say softly, trying to disguise the girlish enthusiasm in my voice.

  “I was up,” he says. “How’s the party?”

  “It’s been good. I think Maisy’s having a good time.” I should feel awkward after last night. After I begged him to stay with me. But it feels too good to be uncomfortable. “Did your mom make it in okay?”

  “Yeah, she sure did.” The line goes quiet. He wants to say more, but he’s chosen not to.

  “Grant?” I ask.

  “I told my mom about you,” he says. “I mean, I told her that you’re more than just some girl at school.”

  My heart starts to pound so hard I can feel the thump, thump, thump of the blood in my ears.

  “Me? Why?” I imagine him shrugging on the other end of the line.

  “Because you’re important.”

  I’m not sure how to follow up a comment like that. He’s better at this than I’m. I feel like no matter what I say, it won’t be an adequate enough expression of how I really feel.

  “I’m glad you came by last night,” I say. I can’t declare my true feelings yet. Not until I talk to Trevor. My indecisiveness hasn’t been fair to anyone. So I swallow hard and bury the words I want to say.

  There’s a rustling noise. I can’t tell if it’s coming through the phone, or if it’s in the house. I tense up as I listen for it again. Every muscle is tight. I’m such a wimp. I can’t believe Dad left me in charge.

  “Do you hear that?” I ask Grant.

  “Hear what?” So, no, not on his end.

  “Nothing, I just heard something in the house.”

  There it is again.

  “Do you need me to come over?” A tempting suggestion.

  “No, it’s probably just Maisy.” I want to accept his offer, but I’m sure it’s nothing, and it is super late.

  I hear a different noise, louder this time.

  “Hey, I’ve got to let you go. I need to check on the girls.” I hate to end this conversation.

  “Syd?” Grant sounds worried. “Call me back if you need anything.”

  I tiptoe down the hall and peer around the top of the stairs to investigate the source of the noise. I’m not the least bit brave, and while I’m confident there isn’t an intruder, I’m still uneasy. I slowly walk down the steps, wishing I’d thought to grab some sort of makeshift weapon. Just in case. All I have in my hand is my iPhone, and that likely won’t do me much good in a struggle.

  There are hushed movements as I turn the corner into the kitchen. I hold my breath and flip on the light.

  “Maisy, you have got to be kidding me,” I say. There, halfway out the kitchen door, stand nine girls, looking like ninjas and dressed from head to toe in black clothing, each holding a large package of toilet paper.

  I snatch the pack from Maisy’s grip.

  “Oh, come on, Syd! You did the same thing when you were our age!” Her friends look around nervously. I have to laugh at their terrified expressions; most of them are bigger than me.

  “Actually, no, I didn’t,” I corrected. I can’t think of a single time I’d ever gone toilet-papering. I wonder if I’d missed out on anything. In any case, I can’t, in good conscience, let the girls out of the house.

  “Sorry, girls. It’s not gonna happen.”

  They hang their heads, and Maisy shoots me the stabby eyes that I’d almost missed with all of our friendly banter the last two days. They trudge back upstairs like prisoners and I follow behind to grab a pillow and blanket from my bed. Sleeping on the sofa is the best option for the night; there’s no way they’d dare try to sneak out again with me right there.


  I stretch out comfortably on the long couch and turn on a movie. Love Actually, my all-time favorite. I recite the lines in my head as I doze in and out of sleep while the familiar faces flicker across the screen.

  “Sydney,” I hear the faintest whisper of my name and the tickle of warm breath on my ear.

  Someone is in the house this time. I shoot upright in a panic.

  Trevor is sitting next to me on the sofa, a thin, tight smile on his face. How did he get in here? It takes me a minute to remember the incident with the toilet paper. I must have forgotten to lock the door behind Maisy and her friends earlier. I squint to see the time on the DVD player, but my eyes are still too heavy with sleep to make it out.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t heard from him at all this weekend, but I didn’t expect him to show up like this, in the middle of the night.

  “I missed you,” Trevor says. He strokes a light line down my arm with his fingertip. “I couldn’t sleep—couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  “What time is it?” I ask. He looks around the room as if he doesn’t know, or particularly care and doesn’t answer me. “Wait, you drove all the way from the lake?”

  He nods. I should feel flattered. Important. Loved. Instead, I’m annoyed. I’m not prepared for this right now. I asked for some time, and he isn’t going to allow me that.

  Trevor leans in and kisses my neck. It’s rough and feels wrong. I can’t help it; I tense up at his touch and I’m positive he’s aware of the change in my posture. He pulls back slightly and measures my expression. Then ignores it. Because it’s obvious he isn’t here for me. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in close to him. His lips press into mine. Intensely. Full of hunger. With something to prove. The feeling of his tongue in my mouth causes an unexpected wave of disgust to overtake me.

  “It’s late, Trevor,” I say. I try to snake around him.

  “But we’re alone,” he says. He isn’t backing off.

  “Not even close,” I correct. “There are almost a dozen kids upstairs.” He isn’t bothered by this fact, and presses himself to me, pinning me to the couch.